Starlight Starbright
by Roisin Dubh
Summary: Dean's lover, Stella, nearly dies during a hunt. While she rehabs, Sam and Dean continue hunting... but will Stella recover in time to help when the boys find their backs against the wall? AU and OC - NOT slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The wood cracked and splintered as something large and heavy crashed into the opposite side of the wall. Stella lurched to the side and turned her head away, trying to avoid the debris, but some chunks of shoddy board hit her anyway. She grimaced; that was going to leave a mark. Off balance, Stella slipped on a bunched-up braid rug and went down on one knee. She forced herself up. There were shape-shifters here and going down was as good as being dead. And if one touched her, it could turn into her, shedding its outer skin and creating itself exactly in her image. Then it would have access to Sam and Dean, and Stella wasn't about to let that happen. She adjusted her grip on the hilt of her silver knife; there were four of them here.

A grunt and a curse came from the kitchen. It sounded like Sam and Stella started to turn towards the voice. A shadow materialized in her peripheral vision. In that split second, Stella knew there was another shifter in the house, one they hadn't accounted for. And she knew she was in deep trouble. Seriously deep trouble. Something flashed in the dim light, and then a searing pain in her side made Stella's vision flare white. Her entire body convulsed as the blade slid into her and she dropped her own weapon, her only defense. As the blade was torn free from her side, Stella dropped one hand down, instinctively trying to stanch the flow of hot, salty blood. She cried out in pain, staggered and dropped to her knees. Another flash of motion crossed her vision in the dim light.

Stella put a hand up, a feeble attempt to defend herself that failed miserably. Pain exploded in her right shoulder and chest. Then the presence near her disappeared. Stella, her attention only on the pain wracking her body, didn't see what happened to her shape-shifting assailant. She gasped for air. Everything grew fuzzy, unfocused. Was that Dean? Was he shouting for her? Sam? They sounded so very far away. Where were they? It was so hard to breathe… She fell heavily to the floor, striking her head on an end table, and was consumed by darkness.

Dean Winchester rounded the corner just in time to see the shape-shifter plunge a long, flat-head screwdriver into Stella's unprotected chest. It was a scene directly out of one of his worst nightmares, and Dean Winchester had some dark, dark nightmares. His scream of pain and rage surprised the shape-shifter. It spun to face him and only had a moment to react as Dean hurled himself across the room. He tackled the creature and they careened into a low table.

"Dean! DEAN!" There was blood spatter on Sam's face and shirt when he ran into the room. Stella lay on the floor not moving and Dean grappled with shape-shifter. Sam had no idea where this one had come from but there was no time to worry about that now. He threw himself into the fray and grabbed the changeling from behind. It gave Dean just the opening he needed. He twisted and thrashed, stretching to reach Stella's knife which had skipped across the floor when she dropped it. His fingers reached the handle as the shape-shifter threw an elbow back, catching Sam in the chin. The younger Winchester brother's head snapped back and he saw stars, but didn't let go. Dean twisted back and drove the blade into the shape-shifter's side. The creature screamed and arched. Dean knew it was a death blow, but that wasn't enough. He pulled it out and stared at the creature clothed in human form for just a moment before he slammed the knife – up to the hilt – into its heart.

In the next instant he and Sam were both next to Stella's prone form. She was on her side, unconscious, and bleeding from a stab wound in her side. The screwdriver was still embedded in her chest. Dean fought back the urge to pull it out, knowing that could very well make the bleeding worse.

"She's got a pulse," said Sam. His voice was tense. "She sounds wheezy; I think the screwdriver punctured her lung."

"We have to get her to a hospital. She'll die if we don't; she's losing too much blood." Dean looked up at his brother as he pressed his hand on her side. "She can't die, Sam. She can't."

"She won't," said Sam. "Let's get her to the car; we don't have time for an ambulance. I'll carry her. Keep the pressure on her side." Sam was as gentle as he could be, trying to balance Stella and not dislodge the screwdriver. They put her in the back seat of the Impala and Dean wedged himself onto the floor next to her. He had a spare shirt in the back and he pushed that into her side, sopping up more of the blood. Stella whimpered and groaned but didn't quite regain consciousness.

"Hang on, baby. We're going to get you some help. Lie still. Don't move. Just hang on." Dean whispered to her, using his free hand to stroke her hair. Stella groaned and rolled her head to the side. Dean's insides clenched when the sunlight showed how pale and sweaty she really was. _She's going into shock._

"Drive, Sam! Get us to a hospital now!"

Sam threw the Impala into drive and prayed that the road wouldn't be too bumpy. And that the hospital wasn't too far away.

So, welcome to my Supernatural fanfic. I'm a relative newcomer to the series, but I've found myself quite enthralled by the Winchester brothers. I hope you'll enjoy the story. I always welcome feedback… if there's something about the way I write that you like, please let me know. But at the same time, there is always room for improvement: helpful, constructive feedback is always welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The Impala tore down the road. In the back seat, Dean tried keeping Stella as still as possible. Fortunately the Colorado highway was straight and relatively smooth. With his free hand, he pulled out his cell and hit Bobby's speed dial number. It rang twice before he heard Bobby's gruff voice on the other end. Dean tried not to shout but it was hard to hear over the Impala's roaring engine.

"Bobby? Bobby! Where are you? Oklahoma? We're rushing Stella to the hospital… It doesn't look good, Bobby." Dean's voice caught. He listened for a second. "Sam, where are we going?"

"Keefe Memorial's the closest hospital. Cheyenne Wells, Colorado."

"We'll be at the hospital in Cheyenne Wells, Colorado. Keefe. Come quick, Bobby." Dean clicked off his phone. Stella's father, Travis, and Bobby had been close friends. In fact, it was Travis who had helped Bobby become a Hunter after his wife died. Bobby considered Stella family, and Dean knew Bobby would want to be with her, no matter what the outcome. He shut his eyes; he didn't want to think about the worst case scenario.

"Give me your phone," yelled Sam. Dean's eyes snapped open.

"My phone?" What did Sam want with his phone?

"Mine's in my pack. Just give me the damn phone, Dean." Sam took one hand off the wheel and groped behind him for the phone. Dean slapped it into his palm.

Sam dialed and put the phone to his ear. "I need you to connect me to the Keefe Hospital Trauma Center. Yes, it's a friggin' emergency!" The pause went on forever. "Hello? Is this the Keefe Trauma Center? I'm on my way in. My brother's girlfriend has been stabbed… No, I can't wait for an ambulance. How far are you from…" A couple buildings whizzed by. "… The Red Corners Diner?" There was silence for another second and then Dean heard Sam say, "We'll be there in less than five minutes."

They were there in three. Sam started leaning on the horn as soon as the emergency room doors were visible. He shouted a warning for Dean to brace before he stepped on the brakes – hard. He'd barely thrown the Impala into park when he leaped out of the car and raced around to the rear passenger door, waving to the ER nurses who were rushing a gurney out to the car.

"What happened?" shouted middle-aged man who Sam assumed was one of the doctors.

"She was stabbed, twice. Once in the side with a knife–and she's bleeding pretty badly. The other is in the shoulder and chest. That's a screwdriver and it is still in her," yelled Sam. With Dean's help, they started pulling Stella out of the car. As she slid out of Dean's arms, Stella's eyes opened for a moment but they were glassy and unfocused. The ER trauma team rushed Stella inside. Dean followed with Sam right on his heels. Stella's gurney went through some double doors. Dean didn't even notice the nurse in his way until he literally ran into her; Sam pulled him back before he did something stupid.

"You need to wait here, sir! Sir!"

"What?" Dean didn't look away from the double doors where Stella had disappeared.

"We'll give you an update as soon as we can, Mister…?" The nurse looked up at Dean. She was only about five-foot-three, had iron grey hair, and keen green eyes.

"Tyler," said Sam, using one of their aliases, a tribute to Aerosmith front man Steven Tyler. "I'm Sam Tyler; this is my brother, Dean."

"Mr. Tyler, what's your friend's name?"

Dean finally blinked and focused on the nurse. "Stella. Stella Bodine. She's 28 years old."

"Okay, Mr. Tyler. I'd like you to please take a deep breath. We're going to take very good care Miss Bodine. The doctors are going to examine her and I'll give you an update as soon as I can. I need for you and your brother to please go to the waiting area. Could you do that for me?" Her voice was soothing and quiet, and Dean settled ever-so-slightly. The nurse glanced at Sam.

"C'mon, Dean. Let's sit. I can give Bobby a call. See how far away he is." He put a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder, knowing Dean would react badly to anything he perceived as a push.

"Yea. Yea, okay." Dean nodded and started to walk aimlessly towards the open seats. Every time the doors opened, Dean flinched, torn between hope and dread. Around them, a number of other people waited to see doctors: a young man who'd fallen from a dirt bike; a young mother with a fussy toddler; an older man with a bruise on the side of his face; and a woman holding a Zip-loc bag of ice on her knee. Dean sat and then got up and paced. Sat again. Paced again. Sam thought it best not to remind Dean that pacing wasn't going to help. If it made him feel better, let him walk. Twenty minutes later, the doctor who'd met them outside came into the waiting room. He had blood on his scrubs. He saw Sam and Dean both stand up and headed over.

"Mr. Tyler? I'm Doctor Polanco…"

"Is Stella okay?" Dean's voice was steady but Sam could hear the whisper of desperation he was trying to hide.

"We've stabilized her, but she needs surgery. We're going to need to repair some of the damage from the screwdriver. She has a punctured lung and a broken clavicle. Her liver was lacerated by the other blade. While serious, it will heal on its own without surgery. She also struck her head; I'm assuming it happened when she fell during the attack. She definitely has a concussion. She's lost a lot of blood and her vital signs are weak but steady."

"So, give us the bottom line, Doc," said Sam. He took a deep breath.

"I can't make any guarantees; her injuries are very serious," said Polanco. "I'm hopeful that she will recover but it will be touch and go for a bit. Once she is out of surgery, we'll have to keep a very careful eye on her. It could go either way at this point. I'm sorry I can't be more positive."

Sam glanced at Dean, but his brother didn't say anything. He just stood silently, staring at some point far off in the distance. "Okay, thank you, Doctor," said Sam when it became clear that Dean was somewhere else. Doctor Polanco nodded and started to turn away when Dean suddenly shook himself out of his reverie. He grabbed the doctor's elbow.

"Doc. Promise me you'll take good care of her." Polanco nodded at Dean and reached out to squeeze the elder Winchester's shoulder.

"I'll do my very best, son. You have my word."

Okay, so that's chapter 2. Thanks to those of you who have read the first chapter – and especially those who have come back for more and/or left a review. I do appreciate the feedback, so I'd love to hear from you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Beep … Beep … Beep … Beep …

The monitor attached to Stella kept a steady rhythm and as annoying as Dean found the noise, it was proof that Stella was alive, that her heart was still beating. Sitting in the chair next to her bed, Dean rubbed his eyes; they were bloodshot and underscored with dark circles. He was exhausted and drained, but he didn't want to sleep, he wanted to stay awake and keep an eye on Stella. But his efforts were fruitless; slowly his head slumped forward and his eyes closed.

Sam, who had stepped out for a minute, could tell is brother was asleep when he came back in the room. Dean would have a sore neck if he slept like that for long, but Sam couldn't bring himself to wake him up, at least not yet. Even a few minutes of sleep would do Dean some good. About 20 minutes later, Sam's phone buzzed. He'd turned it to vibrate so it would be less intrusive in the hospital, but it still sounded loud in the quiet room. He crept out, trying not to wake Dean. He managed to get out, but Dean heard the voices in the hall when Sam came back. He was awake, and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, when Sam followed Bobby Singer in.

"Bobby? How did you get here so fast?" Dean asked. Bobby ignored him and headed to Stella's bed; behind him Sam shook his head in a 'don't ask' motion.

"Oh, honey." Bobby gently touched the top of Stella's head and brushed her hair to the side. It was easy to see the bruise where she'd struck her head now; it was a lovely shade of muddy purple and about as big as a fist. He turned away from the bed and glared at the Winchesters.

"What the hell happened?" He kept his voice low, but there was bite in the question. Sam and Dean quickly filled him in on the lead they'd uncovered about the shape-shifters. Bobby was as surprised as they had been about the concentrated number, but that was a conversation for a different day. They told him about the house and both boys talked about what had happened when they confronted the creatures.

"I saw it stab her." Dean ran a hand over his face, trying to stay in control of his emotions, but the pain in his voice was vivid, palpable.

"When I came into the room, Stella was down," said Sam. "And Dean was on the ground with the shape-shifter. As soon as we killed it, we brought Stella here…"

Talked out, the three men sat in silence. Sam watched Stella for a moment but then his gaze went to the wall and somewhere beyond that. He started to smile. Dean scowled when he saw it; there was nothing worth smiling about right now.

"What are you smilin' at?"

"Chill out, Dean. I was thinking about the very first time I ever saw Stella. You were chasing some vampire or werewolf in Nebraska and I headed up to South Dakota to see Bobby… You remember that, Bobby?"

Bobby scratched his beard and adjusted his ratty ball cap slightly. "Yea, I remember. You'd been there for about a day and a half. Dean was on his way back…"

Sam nodded and continued the story, "And then there was a knock at the door. You had your hands full, so I answered…"

_The woman standing outside had expected Bobby and looked at Sam appraisingly, unsure of whom he might be. Sam tried to not stare but it was hard. Dressed in dusty jeans, her fitted white t-shirt showed off her curves in a very flattering way. She wore a black leather belt with silver studs in it and had a leather jacket slung over her shoulder. Her hair was long and dark brown, but Sam couldn't see her eyes behind the sunglasses._

"_Hey," she said, pushing the sunglasses up onto her head. Her eyes were brown._

"_Hi."Sam's greeting was as cautious as hers was._

"_Bobby around?"_

_Sam didn't have time to answer before Bobby came in from the other room and saw who was at the door. "Stella! C'mon in. This is Sam Winchester. Sam, meet Stella Bodine."_

_At the mention of Sam's last name, Stella tilted her head. She gave him another appraising look as she came into the house. "Winchester? Related to John Winchester?"_

"_He was my father," answered Sam. "Did you know him?"_

_"Just by reputation. He did good work." She couldn't help but check out Sam's backside as he walked past her. The jeans fit him well, she had to admit that. She managed to look up before Sam turned around._

"_You're a hunter," he said._

_She nodded. "My daddy and Bobby go back a ways," she said. "At least they did before he died. Vampire. He managed to kill the evil sonofabitch, but … Bled to death before me and Bobby could get him to a doctor. "_

"_I'm sorry," said Sam._

_Stella shrugged ever so slightly. "Thanks, but it comes with the job, you know? So, Bobby, how's my baby doing? She all fixed up? You know I prefer to do it myself, but there are a few things you ought to just leave to the master. I knew you'd have the parts stashed around her somewhere."_

_Bobby chuckled. "I finished with your car yesterday. And I found an AC/DC CD wedged under a seat."_

_Sam started to smile. AC/DC? She called her car "baby?" Preferred doing car repairs herself? He couldn't resist the question. "What kind of car do you drive, Stella?"_

_Her smile widened. "A '69 Chevy Camaro Rally Sport SS," she said proudly. Bobby tossed her the keys and she caught them without turning to look at him. "You're the best, Bobby." _

"_Can you stay?" he asked her._

_"No, got a job to take care of. I'll call you and I promise that when I'm through this way again, we'll have dinner." She gave Bobby a hug. "Sam, was nice meeting you. Maybe we'll cross paths again." _

"_That'd be great." Sam gave her a small wave. Bobby handed Sam a beer and headed for the door, too. Leaning on the porch rail they started to talk about some of the research they'd been working on. A moment later a dark navy Camaro with a silver racing stripe drove by the house. AC/DC's "Back in Black" blared out the window and Stella waved as she disappeared in a cloud of dust…_

"I knew right then and there that I'd found the perfect woman for Dean," said Sam. There was a moment of collective chuckles, humor at the pleasant memory, but it was cut short by a sound that made Dean feel like he'd been punched so hard he was going to throw up. The rhythmic beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor turned into a long, drawn-out whine…

Beeeeeeeeeppppp…

Stella's heart had stopped.

Thank you for reading my story so far – I'd love to hear from you about what you like or think needs improvement if you are so inclined… I'm going to try to build a little back story on Stella and Dean throughout Starlight through some flashbacks. I should be able to get the next few chapters up fairly quickly but then I get into areas where I only have outlined notes…


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Beeeeeeeeeppppp…

Everything in Dean clenched with fear as the heart monitor shrieked out Stella's flat-line. The door to her hospital room burst open and a doctor he didn't recognize came charging in, a nurse right on her heels. She raced to Stella's side, shoving Dean out of the way.

"STELLA!" Bobby and Sam grabbed Dean and pulled him back more, giving the doctor more room to work.

"She's coding! Ellen!"

"I'm right behind you," shouted the nurse. Right behind the nurse several others poured through the door. One was pushing a portable defibrillator. The last nurse in turned towards Sam, Dean, and Bobby and herded them out of the room like she was cutting cattle on a ranch. She slammed the door in their faces and all three stood in the hall, waiting. Dean pressed his hands to his head and then whirled, slamming his palms on the wall as hard has he could. He was utterly helpless and he despised feeling that way.

Voices carried out into the hall.

"Charging… Clear!"

THUMP.

"No pulse, Doctor."

"Again… Clear!"

THUMP.

"Still nothing!"

"We're going again. Charging…"

Dean whispered her name, and Sam pulled him into a hug, not knowing what else to do. He felt Dean's shoulders shake as the tears started. Sam, tears running down his own cheeks, looked over at Bobby who looked just as pale and frightened as they did.

"… CLEAR!"

THUMP.

"We have a rhythm! She's back!"

The doctor came out of the room and slung her stethoscope around her neck. "She's okay for now," the doctor said.

"For now?" Dean was careful to keep his voice low but he wanted to shout at the doctor. _What do you mean 'for now?' I just want you to make her better. Fix her…!_

"We're going to need to keep a very close eye on her. Hopefully there will be no more incidents like this one. I'll make sure Dr. Polanco gives you a more detailed update when he comes in, after we've had time to evaluate her monitor and her test results."

"Can we go back in?" asked Sam.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, but please stay very quiet and very calm. Patients, even when they're unconscious, can be influenced by the people around them. If you're upset in there, she'll be upset. And it is best that she be as calm as possible right now." The doctor gave them one last nod and headed down the hall to see other patients.

Dean's eyes were wide, his fear for Stella still coursing through him, and abruptly said, "I gotta… I gotta… I'll be back. Don't let anything happen to her." He glanced at Stella's room and walked down the hall without another word.

"I'll stay with Stella," Bobby said to Sam. "You go keep an eye on your brother."

Sam nodded in agreement and slowly started to follow Dean. His brother walked the halls of the hospital for a few minutes and finally found his way to the small chapel. Dean stood at the open door for a second, considering, before he finally went in and sat down. There was a small stand at the front and above it a circular stained glass window. The window had a simple symmetrical, nondenominational design in it. There was a row of benches where people could sit and kneel and flanking it were rows of chairs on either side. He picked a bench about half-way down.

Dean was sitting on a bench when Sam glanced in. His arms were on the back of the bench in front of him and he was resting his head on his hands. Sam stepped back quietly, giving Dean some privacy. He knew his brother wasn't much of a praying man despite everything they knew about angels and demons, so this was something Sam knew Dean wouldn't want anyone intruding on.

_Don't let her die. Don't let her die. Don't let her die. Please don't let Stella die._ Dean repeated the mantra over and over in his head, hoping that some benevolent being, God, an angel, anything, would hear and maybe take pity on him.

Finally, he sat back in silence. Dean remembered that day in the ramshackle town when he'd watched Jake drive a hunting knife into Sam's back, severing his spine. He'd watched the light go out of Sam's eyes as he fell to his knees. And he remembered the dead weight of Sam's body in his arms and the sticky blood on his hands. He'd sold his own soul to bring Sam back and spent four mortal months – but more like 40 years – being tortured in Hell.

Clear. Thump. Clear. Thump. The sounds of the defibrillator echoed in his head. What if Stella died? What would he do? Would he sell his soul again? Would Sam… or Stella… ever forgive him if he did? He shook his head and tried to drive the dark thoughts away. _Stella's still alive, you ass,_ he thought to himself. _Stop acting like she's already dead. _

Sam knocked on the chapel door and Dean jumped to his feet. "Stella? Sam, is she okay?"

"She's fine. She's fine. I came to see how you're doing?" He sat down next to Dean.

"I'm scared, Sam. I'm really scared. You know, me and Stella, it started out simple. Share a few nights, nothing wrong with that. But I fell in love with her. I didn't mean to, Sam… the way we live? It's so complicated. But I couldn't help it; I just couldn't help it. And now I just… the thought of…"

"I know, Dean. I know." Sam still remembered all too clearly how much he'd loved Jessica. The sun rose and set on her, and it had been so easy to imagine a long and happy life together. He knew exactly how Dean felt, and he prayed to God that Dean would never know what it felt like to lose the woman he loved.

"Sammy, I can't lose her…"

"Dean, Stella's fighter. She's a hunter like us and tough as they come. She's not going anywhere. Not without a fight."

"Yea, yea, you're right. She is a fighter." Dean nodded slowly, considering his brother's words and then, abruptly, he stood. "I need to be with Stella."

The brothers left the little chapel together and walked back towards Stella's room. Dean was practically stumbling because he was so tired. It was 3:00 in the morning. Before they went into Stella's room, Sam said, "There's a motel a couple blocks over. I assume you want to take the first shift here?"

Dean nodded. "You guys go. I'll stay."

"Okay. Bobby and I will get some sleep and come back in a few hours."

Inside the room, there was a pillow and a blanket on one of the chairs. Bobby had gone rummaging around while Dean had been at the chapel. "It won't be much of a bed, but if you pull the other chair over, you might get a little sleep," said Bobby.

Dean thanked them and, once Sam and Bobby left, he turned the main light out and sat in the chair right next to her bed. The monitor continued its steady beep-beep-beep (which Dean no longer found annoying). He ran his fingers gently on her arm, being careful not to bump any of the IV connections.

"You scared me, Stella," he said softly. "I know I've always said I love it when you make my heart race, but this isn't what I had in mind. Just that heart stopping thing, do me a favor and don't do that again; I don't think my heart can take it. And I don't want to test yours." He kept rubbing her arm and he kept talking. "You know when I was just talking to Sammy I said our relationship started simple. I don't know if that's all true. Everything's been complicated for us, complicated and simple. I'm not making much damn sense any more…"

He laughed softly and took her hand in his. "Sam told his story about meeting you for the first time. Well, I sure remember the first time that I saw you…"

_The hustle hadn't quite gone the way Sam and Dean planned. They were both heading towards the bar door, hoping to get out before the bikers they'd just conned completely figured out what had happened. If not, things were going to get ugly really fast. Behind them, voices started to rise, get angrier, and the Winchesters put a little hustle in their step._

_They got out the door and part way to the car when Dean stopped abruptly, nearly making Sam run into him. There was a woman leaning against his Impala. It was late, past eleven, but the lights in the parking lot made it easy to see her. Her hair and eyes were dark, and she had a small, quirky smile on her face, like she knew a secret that Dean didn't… Dean felt his pulse quicken when he looked at her; a definite fox by his definition and a stone-cold one at that. She had low-cut, denim hip-huggers and her baby-doll t-shirt didn't quite reach the top of the jeans, showing a tantalizing strip of skin at her waist._

"_Hi, Sam," she said. She had a low, delicious voice._

_Hi Sam? Sam knew her? Dean was going to have to have a serious discussion with his brother. Sam had clearly been holding out on him._

_The voices in the bar became louder and angrier._

"_Gotta catch up later." Sam glanced over his shoulder. "We're in a hurry." He shoved Dean forward a little._

"_Don't get all hot and bothered," she said as she started walking away from the Impala. Was that a slight hit of a Southern accent that Dean could hear? "The super glue in the bikes' ignitions will keep them grounded long enough for you boys to clear out. I can show you a motel you can hole up in where they won't find you… if you think you can keep up."_

_For the moment all of Dean's attention was on the motion of her hips and the very, very appealing shape of her backside. Suddenly, as her car engine growled, he noticed the Camaro for the first time. Dust churned as she pulled out and Dean heard some familiar lyrics: "… wasn't me she was foolin'… __'cause she knew what she was doin' when she told me how to walk this way … she told me to walk this way … talk this way …"_

"_A '69 Camaro AND she's listening to Aerosmith? Dude… " Dean had an enormous grin on his face._

"_Uh, Dean?" Sam glanced nervously at the bar door. In the past few moments two of the bikers had come out and now that Stella's exit was no longer distracting them, they were both staring at the Winchesters._

"_There they are!" shouted one. The other shouted back into the bar. Dean and Sam looked at each other and leaped into the Impala. Everything was about to go to Hell in a hand basket. A knot of angry bikers boiled out of the bar, pointing and shouting at them. The Impala roared to life and Dean floored it, spraying dirt and gravel back at their pursuers. Sam twisted in his seat and looked out the rear window. _

"_Looks like the super glue worked. They're not going anywhere. They look PISSED." He laughed. Dean was focused on the Camaro's tail lights about a half-mile ahead of him on the straightaway._

"_Who is she, Sam?"_

_Sam looked over at Dean and smiled. "What?" He put on his best innocent school-boy face. Dean didn't buy it._

"_Spill it, Sam. Who's the hottie in the Camaro? Did you hit that? Did you hit that and not tell me? How could you not tell me?" The tail lights were much closer now; Dean could just about see the license plate. _

"_Hit that? No, I didn't hit that, Dean. THAT was Stella Bodine." Sam was laughing as he said it. He'd known his brother would be totally into Stella the moment he saw her, and he was right. Sam could see it in Dean's eyes. Suddenly, the Camaro accelerated and pulled away. Dean smiled; a little game cat and mouse? He was down to play. Sam smiled and braced himself as Dean stepped on the gas so he wouldn't lose sight of the Camaro's tail lights._

Dean came out of the memory with a smile on his lips. He leaned a little closer to Stella. He kissed her gently on the forehead and whispered in her ear. It was an endearment he'd used the first time he'd told Stella he loved her, and – if he was being honest - he'd felt a little goofy when he first said it. But the way Stella had looked at him after? No woman had ever looked at him like that before and he wanted Stella to look at him that way forever. Now it was his secret endearment, one he whispered to her in their most intimate moments.

"Starlight, starbright, you're the only star I see tonight… "

Well, hope you're enjoying so far. My next couple chapters are mostly done but I still have some holes to fill. After that, everything's really in outline form, so I don't think I'll be keeping up with my "chapter a day" pace for much longer. But I promise I'll update as frequently as I can.

So, thank you to everyone who has read this so far and to those who have left reviews, I do appreciate that. I hope the story continues to meet your expectations!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was Dr. Polanco who woke him in the morning. Dean had managed to curl up across the two chairs and tuck the pillow up to support his head. The doctor tapped him on the leg. Startled, Dean almost fell out of the chair and scrambled to his feet.

"I understand we had a little excitement last night," Polanco said. Just as the doctor was starting to give Dean an overview of Stella's condition, Bobby and Sam arrived. Since being resuscitated, Stella had shown – in the past four hours – some marginal improvement that the doctor felt was a good sign. He was careful, however, to caution Dean against getting his hopes up to high just yet.

"When's she going to wake up, Doc?" asked Dean.

"That I can't say. The brain scan we did showed no intracranial bleeding. But she got one heck of a knock on the head, so it could be hours, it could be days. We're keeping a close eye on it and we'll do another EEG today. If we need to, I'll order another CAT or PET scan."

Dean frowned and rubbed his chin. "Okay, thanks, Doc."

"And Mr. Tyler? Sleep in a regular bed tonight. You're going to end up in the hospital yourself if you keep trying to sleep in that contraption." Polanco hooked a thumb towards the chairs.

"We'll make sure he gets some sleep," said Bobby before Dean could say anything else.

"Here's the key to the motel," said Sam as he shoved it into Dean's hand. "I left scrambled eggs and bacon for you. We got it at the diner. It might still be warm if you go now. And shave. You look like shit."

"What, the George Clooney stubble thing not workin' for me?"

"Ah, no," said Sam. "Not exactly."

"You'll stay here with Stella? You won't leave her alone?" Dean knew he needed sleep and he knew he needed a shower. He was still in the clothes from the shape-shifter incident. He had skinwalker blood on him along with Stella's, and frankly, he was pretty stinky.

"I promise at least one of us will be in the room at all times, Dean. If anything changes, I'll call you. I promise," said Sam. "Scout's honor."

"You were never a Scout," said Dean. "Pinky swear."

"Pinky swear?" Sam stared incredulously at his brother. "And you call me gay?"

"Shut up," said Dean. "I'll be back in a few hours."

True to his word, Dean was back by early afternoon. A full meal, a few hours of sleep, and a shower, shave, and change of clothes made him look – almost – like a new man. He still hadn't managed to get rid of the dark circles under his eyes. It was going to take a lot more sleep to get rid of those. When Dean got back to the hospital, he found Bobby snoring softly in a chair and Sam doing some research on his laptop. They let Bobby sleep and Sam scoped out the online menu for a local restaurant so he could go get lunch for them. Dean leaned over the bed and stroked Stella's hair. He touched his fingers to his lips and then gently touched them to the bruise on Stella's face.

Sam watched his brother's kiss-it-and-make-it better gesture out of the corner of his eye. He kept his face schooled so that Dean wouldn't see him smile if he turned. Dean could be a hard-ass, and he was often the one to shoot or punch first and then ask questions later. Gentle was not a term that would frequently be applied to his brother, but when it came to Stella? Well, she brought out another side of Dean, a side Sam was grateful to see. The heart monitor kept up its steady pulse but her eyes remained closed. Dean sighed; seeing her in that bed, attached to all of those monitors, was physically painful for him.

"After I woke up, I was thinking…" said Dean sitting down in the chair next to Sam. Nearby, Bobby grunted in his sleep and shifted.

"Thinking? That's something different." Sam didn't look up from the computer screen.

"Ha-ha. You're a real comedian." Dean made a sour face at his brother but Sam just laughed at him. "Seriously. I was thinking about when Stella first did some hunts with us. I said last night that our relationship was simple… It really wasn't, was it? Simple?"

"No, not really," said Sam. "There's a reason hunters usually work alone. You and I have learned how to work together – most of the time – since we grew up together. But add Stella to the mix?"

"Yea," smiled Dean. "Another stubborn hot-head who has to be in charge."

"The two of you called each other some really, really interesting names when you fought. And boy did you fight." Sam shook his head. "I knew you both had the hots for each other, but it really didn't seem like you liked each other much."

After the biker hustle, Sam, Dean, and Stella had met up at the motel she recommended but parted ways the next day, despite Dean's significant efforts to charm her. It turned out, however, that she crossed paths with the Winchesters about a week later at Bobby's place. Bobby had come across a significant lead on a large nest of vampires less than a four hour drive from his place. It was a big enough number that acting as a team was necessary. It was unlikely a single hunter could have eradicated the whole nest, so he called the boys and Stella, not knowing quite what he was getting into. Working out the logistics of that job took several days and a number of fights.

"I remember that one day when she started to storm out the room and you grabbed her arm. Remember?" Sam asked.

Dean whistled. "Oh yea. Hell, she almost broke my wrist."

Sam slapped Bobby's boot. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Let's go grab some lunch. Dean will stay with Stella." Bobby grunted and grumbled; he was never pleasant right after he woke up. He gave both boys a squirrelly look. Dean just ignored him and pulled his chair over next to Stella. A nurse came in, checked a few things and disappeared without a word. Dean took Stella's hand in his and started rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

"Hey, Stella. You've got to wake up soon, baby. I miss seeing those brown eyes. We sure did have some good fights when we first got to know each other, didn't we? But it all turned out okay. Plus, I gotta admit, make-up sex with you is pretty hot… And that first time? You remember that first time…" He whistled. "We were still trying to work through that vampire job at Bobby's. I'd probably only known you, what, three weeks at the most? I don't remember what dumb-ass thing I said to piss you off, but…"

_Stella just stared coldly at Dean and shook her head. "Dean Winchester, you're an ass. I'm done with this idiocy; finish the friggin' job on your own. It's clear you don't need me around." She grabbed her duffle and headed out the door. She looked back over her shoulder and gave Sam a collegial nod before she said, "Thanks for the hospitality, Bobby. It's been good to see you."_

"_Hey! HEY!" Dean shouted. "What? You're just leaving? In the middle of a job? C'mon, Stella… Stella!"_

_The door slammed. Hard._

_Sam and Bobby both turned to look at Dean. Sam raised his eyebrows, clearly asking without any words, what Dean had done this time. Dean looked back and forth between the two of them. "What?" he asked. "She's the one who… Oh, hell, I'll go get her." He stomped towards the door, muttering under his breath about headstrong women._

"_Apologize while you're at it," Sam yelled. "I'm sure whatever happened was your fault!"_

_"Bitch!" Dean retorted._

"_Jerk!" countered Sam. Bobby just rolled his eyes. Both of those boys were idiots sometimes, acting like they were twelve. It was a Winchester thing that he didn't quite understand. _

_For his part, Dean was frustrated and confused. He and Stella had been butting heads all week. He knew it was because they were both used to being in charge… but he was also distracted. He couldn't keep his mind totally on the job with Stella so close. She'd lean in to look at a book or a diagram and all Dean could think about was how she smelled or how warm her skin was where it brushed against him. There had been at least three times when he'd woken up only to find Sam laughing at him and asking what kind of dream had made Dean make such happy noises._

_Outside, in the jungle of old and junk cars adjacent to Bobby's house, Stella had thrown her duffle in the front passenger seat of the Camaro. She had the trunk open and the false bottom popped. Similar to how the Winchesters' had outfitted the Impala, Stella had a hidden compartment where she kept her guns, ammo, salt, knives, crucifixes, holy water and any other weapon that might do some good against an evil supernatural creature. Dean had been impressed the first time he'd seen her stash. The Camaro's trunk was smaller than the Impala's, but Stella had made the most of the space._

_When he came out to where the cars were parked, she was rummaging through her ammo, checking her level of rock salt for shells. The sun was just down and it was getting a little hard to see. She could hear the crunch of boots heading towards her from the house._

_She lowered the trunk slightly and gave Dean a glare. "Am I going to have to shoot you?"_

"_I'd prefer you didn't."_

_She slammed the trunk closed and came around to the side of the car, which was parked next to Dean's Impala, to face him. She folded her arms across her chest, totally ready to continue the fight. "You got something you want to say to me?"_

"_C'mon, Stella." Dean spread his arms and smiled. "Don't leave now. Things are just getting interesting." He leaned his back against the rear quarter panel of the Impala, hooking his thumbs into his jeans._

"_I'm done with having every idea shot down, Dean." Her voice was cold. "I'm not saying every idea of mine is a good one, but I'm sick-and-God-damn-tired of you shooting everything down the instant I say it."_

"_I know," he raised his hands. "You're absolutely right. I'm used to running the show… at least most of the time. I'm sorry, Stella. But I trust myself and I trust Sam. I want to trust you, but I don't know you that well…"_

"_I get that. I don't totally trust you either… We've both been hunting a long time, Dean. I know hunters are loners, but there's no reason we can't work together on this without killing each other. But if I stay, you'd better start showing a little more respect." The voice wasn't quite as cold, but it was still covered in frost._

"_R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me…" sang Dean in a ridiculous high falsetto._

Stella rolled her eyes. "You're a complete pain in my ass, you know that?"

"_You love it." He grinned at her. _

_Stella didn't want to smile back; she was still a little pissed. But Dean Winchester was hard to resist, and the frown wavered, shifted. She finally relented and smiled at him. "Yea, I do." _

_Dean reached out and pulled Stella in close. Wrapping her up in his arms, he kissed her full on the lips. Not some timid, tentative kiss, looking for approval. This was a full-on, I'm-totally-hot-for-you kind of kiss. A large part of him expected Stella to slap the shit out of him. But she didn't and Dean felt a little weak in the knees as she pressed up against him, returning the kiss._

"_Thank God we got that out of the way," she whispered after. _

"_I've wanted to be with you since that super glue biker incident," said Dean. "I think about you all the time, Stella. I've been having dreams about you…" His eyes searched her face, trying to understand what she was feeling, if she wanted him as badly. The kiss said yes, but he was uncertain. Stella pulled away and he reluctantly let her go. But instead of walking away, Stella leaned over and grabbed the door handle to the back of the Impala. _

"_Get in," she ordered as she opened the door. Dean gave her a funny look and then his mouth sagged open as Stella, without a trace of self-consciousness, pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it into the car. She put a hand on her hip, and the expression on her face turned from mischievous to sultry in an instant. "There's more room in the Impala. Unless you want to get in the back of the Camaro and we can see how flexible you really are." _

_For the past two weeks, each and every one of Dean's sexy dreams had been centered on Stella Bodine. Stella half-naked in the back of the Impala was only one of his many fantasies about her. She didn't need to invite him a second time. With a laugh, he practically dove into the car. Stella followed him in and turned to face Dean, settling herself down into his lap with her knees on either side of his hips. _

"_I've been having dreams, too, Dean." She smiled down at him. "Really, really interesting dreams."_

_He slid his hand over her skin and buried his face in the crook of her neck, feeling Stella arch in his arms as he kissed her again. She pulled his shirt up over his head and ran her fingers down from his shoulders over his chest and down to the waist of his jeans. Dean leaned his head back and closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her fingers and lips. The next two hours were deliciously wild and spontaneous, passionate and steamy, and while it left Dean momentarily sated, he already knew he wanted more of Stella._

As Dean talked to Stella about their first rendezvous in the Impala, Sam came back with sandwiches. He only heard the last few moments of Dean's story but he remembered the day clearly, too. He handed Dean his bacon cheeseburger.

"I remember that day. It took you two long enough to hook up. I thought you were starting to lose your touch, brother of mine."

"Shut up," said Dean, and then after a pause he continued. "What do you mean 'you remember'? I don't recall it being a threesome."

"I had books for Bobby in the front seat and I came out to get them that night," said Sam. "I got out there – almost with my hand on the door handle – and suddenly realized that all the windows were fogged up and the car was … moving. I just turned around and went back in the house. I really don't enjoy seeing you naked, Dean."

A short time later, after they'd finished lunch, the three men sat with Stella, talking to each other and sometimes talking directly to her. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when a small sigh and a tiny groan of pain drifted from the bed. Dean, Sam and Bobby crowded at the side of the bed. Stella turned her head slowly from one side of the pillow to the other, her brows furrowing with confusion and pain. Her eyes started to open, slowly, and squinted and blinked in the bright afternoon sun.

"Hey, Stella. Can you hear me?" asked Dean. "Bobby, go get the doctor!"

She groaned again and tried to shift, the pain in her shoulder actually driving some of the fog from her mind and making her gasp. When she spoke, her voice was groggy. "Dean? Dean, everything hurts… Where…?"

"Where are you? You're in the hospital," he said.

"No, ah…" Stella sucked in her breath and gritted her teeth as she shifted. "Where… Where's my car?"

"Your car? Where's your car?" Laughter mingled with Dean's tears and he wiped his cheek with the back of a hand. "The Camaro's fine, baby. Everything's fine now."

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for reading "Starlight Starbright." My chapters seem to be getting a little longer, don't they? There's still plenty more to go, so stay tuned for the next chapter. As always, I do enjoy hearing from readers and I welcome your feedback. If you like the way I'm doing something, let me know. And if there's something that doesn't feel right, let me know that too… as I say in my profile, constructive feedback is always welcome._**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

One week passed with, as far as Stella was concerned, intolerable slowness. Her days were filled with little more than bad daytime television; visits with Sam, Dean and Bobby; and being scanned, poked and tested by doctors. Stella was definitely stir-crazy and had tried to get out of bed several times. Only the threat of actually being secured to the bed rails had discouraged her, and she'd let everyone know that she was mightily unhappy with being confined.

"It isn't like I'm going to go run a marathon," she complained. "I just don't want to be in the hospital. I don't like hospitals."

Finally, Dr. Polanco told her she was ready to be released. "Now, where are you headed to, Stella?" he asked as he filled out the discharge papers in the little office he used at the hospital.

"My family's got a little place up in the Steamboat area," she said. "Nice and quiet; good place to rest and recover."

"No skiing," said the doctor. "No rock climbing. Nothing like that."

Dean added to the list mentally: _And no hunting werewolves, vampires, rugarus, poltergeists…_

"I swear, hand over my heart, Doc. Really couldn't even if I wanted to." She looked down at the brace and sling holding her arm across her chest while the collarbone healed.

"I'll make sure she behaves, Doc," said Dean. He skewered Stella with one of his that's-final-and-we-aren't-going-to-discuss-it-again looks and she raised her eyebrows, slightly offended by the tone.

Sam, who was standing behind them, glanced over at Bobby and made a face. He'd heard the bossy tone in Dean's voice, too. He leaned his head towards Bobby and whispered as quietly as he could, "I give it less than three days before she has to take Boss Man here down a peg or two." Bobby just grunted.

"How are you getting there?" Polanco continued on, not giving them a chance to start in on each other, or for Dean to ask what his brother was whispering about.

"We're taking her," said Dean. "I'm driving her in my car, and my brother will follow in hers. It's a stick, so she won't be driving that for a while either."

Stella scowled at him. In the back of her head, she'd known she couldn't drive a manual transmission with her injuries, but she still had not taken it well when Dean confirmed that she wouldn't be driving the Camaro any time soon.

"Okay, now, I want to talk to all of you about Stella's recovery time. You might be feeling better now, Miss Bodine, but you've got quite a bit of rest ahead of you. If you don't, you're going to end up back in a place like this. You're looking at about eight full weeks for your lung to recover. That means pretty much all of May and all of June. You'll need to do those breathing exercises I showed you at least twice a day to make sure your lung capacity doesn't decrease."

Stella nodded. As ornery as she'd been in the hospital she took her recovery time very seriously. It was one of the things her Daddy had taught her – you had to be in peak shape when you were hunting. She'd seen first-hand what happened to hunters who went back out too soon. They went out and if they came back at all, it was in little bloody chunks.

"The liver laceration is healing nicely. I would say in about three to four weeks it should be functioning at top form again." Polanco clicked at his computer for a second. "I'm going to send your files to Dr. Eliza VanAyles at the Yampa Valley Medical Center in Steamboat. You'll need to do regular check-ins with her during your recovery time to monitor your progress. She'll be expecting your call when you get there."

"That's fine," said Stella.

"Now for you clavicle. That's going to take the longest. It heals fairly quickly in kids, but sometimes adults need a full four months to recover from a break like that. If the healing progresses well, end of July is reasonable, but, it could take all the way through August for the bone to fully knit. You're going to need to do some physical therapy to make sure your wrist and shoulder won't get too stiff while it heals. Dr. VanAyles will help with that."

"Absolutely." Stella nodded. She needed full mobility in her arms if she was going to continue hunting. Skipping out on this therapy wasn't an option. She mentally ran through a half-dozen exercises she knew she could do in addition to the therapy.

Polanco leaned back in his chair. "Are you trying to yes me to death, Stella? I'm not entirely convinced you're taking this recovery time seriously."

"As difficult as I've been these past few days, Doc, I really do take this recovery seriously. I just feel confined in hospitals and most of the time, when I've been in one, it's been because someone I know has died. I just don't like them."

He smiled. "Fair enough. Well, your paperwork is done. You're a free woman."

Stella reached out with her left hand and gave the doctor an awkward handshake. "Thank you for everything, Dr. Polanco. I mean it. Without you…"

"Just doing my job, Stella. Don't even mention it."

Dean shook his hand next. "No, really, Doc. If there is anything, anything I can ever do for you…"

Outside, the Impala was waiting and the Camaro was parked right behind it. They were all ready to get on the road and put Cheyenne Wells behind them. Sam and Dean put a couple bags into the back seat of the Impala while Bobby hovered around Stella.

"Thanks for staying, Bobby." Stella gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Couldn't have kept me a way, girl. You're like a daughter to me and I promised Travis I'd keep an eye on you." His voice was extra gruff like it always got when Bobby was feeling a little emotional about something.

"You promised my Daddy that and then let me hook up with this one?" She jerked her head towards Dean.

"Never said I was perfect," shrugged Bobby. Over by the Impala Dean made some wise retort that neither of them could hear. Bobby leaned in and whispered to Stella, "Your Daddy would have liked Dean, you know. He takes care of you the way Travis would have wanted."

"I know," said Stella softly. "He's the best thing that ever happened to me." Bobby opened the Impala door and helped Stella get in. She took it slowly and eased into the seat. She was more uncomfortable than she let on. Bobby shut the car door and looked in the car window.

"Okay," said Bobby. "You get going. I've got a little business to take care of back home, but I'm going to head out your way and check in on you sometime soon. Make sure these boys are taking care of you and treatin' you right. Anything happens to her, I'm going to come looking for you, boy." He gave the squirrelly eye to Dean in particular.

"Yes, _Dad_," snorted Dean. "I'll have her home by curfew and she'll still be a virgin."

"Too late for that," said Stella from inside the car.

It took several hours for the two-car caravan to reach Steamboat Springs. During the trip Dean went through half of the classic rock tapes he had stashed in the car. He sang along with the songs, making Stella laugh until she begged him to stop because it hurt. They stopped several times so Stella could walk around and stretch for a few minutes. As they drove further into the Rockies, there was still plenty of snow in different areas and Dean was glad it was heading into summer. If they were lucky, they'd be able to get out of the mountains in the fall before the next snow season started. He loved the Impala and trusted it with his life, but driving through the Rockies on a narrow road in a snow storm? He'd pass on that, thanks.

Route 40 brought them into Steamboat as the sun was just starting to go down behind the mountains. Stella gave Dean directions as he drove, first onto Third Street, then onto Fish Creek Falls Road. A few miles later it was Huckleberry Lane and finally a turn onto Upper Huckleberry Lane. The Bodine property was at the very end of the road: a 15 acre parcel of land covered in trees and with some really nice views of the surrounding mountains. Stella's father had arranged for a service to maintain the house and rent it out during ski season. Money from the rentals went into an account that Stella referred to as her "if I live long enough to retire" fund. She had called from Cheyenne Wells to tell the maintenance company that she'd be there for the summer. They parked the cars and Dean came around to help Stella out.

"Well, this is it," said Stella. "Welcome to Chateau Bodine."

"Nice place," said Sam appreciatively as he admired the post-and-beam home. Underneath the house were two garage doors. Above them the house had large glass windows in the front to maximize the view and it appeared that the deck wrapped all the way around.

"Let's go in," said Dean. "We can get settled and then one of us can go out and get some food and some beer."

There were stairs on the side, leading up to the deck. As they walked up, Stella said, "You can also get in through the garage, but there's a side door up here that will bring you into the mud room." The stairs took a lot out of her and she had to rest for a minute at the top. Assuring Dean she was fine, Stella unlocked the door and let them in. The first room they came into was a large utility room with benches and hooks for wet ski clothes. There was a washer and dryer there, and a large area for boots, shoes and other storage. Another door led into the main part of the house.

"Wow." Dean looked around. "I've never lived in anything this nice."

"Oh, I've never actually LIVED here. Daddy looked at it as an investment," she said. "As a source of income for a safety net and he knew that when people caught wind of this place to ski, that they'd want pretty houses to live in while they were here. I've only ever spent a couple weekends here."

Dean and Sam put down the bags they'd carried up and looked around. Stella took a seat at the kitchen island to rest. The whole house had a very open floor plan. In addition to a full bath and a cozy study, the downstairs sported a roomy but not oversized kitchen with a large peninsula island where four could eat comfortably. The kitchen opened onto an expansive living room that faced the front of the house. A small section of the living room was dedicated to a more formal dining room table, but the majority of the room held a large sofa, a couple chairs, and a large TV entertainment center. An enormous fieldstone fireplace was flanked by two walls of nearly floor to ceiling window sections, offering a view towards the ski mountain and the rest of the Yampa Valley.

"What was your Dad thinking when he build this front wall?" Dean was looking at the windows, not seeing the beautiful vista, only the number of places where a demon could easily infiltrate the house.

"Take a closer look, boys. Old Travis wasn't quite as crazy as you think." Stella watched them both inspect the windows. Each had an interior sill wide enough to hold a small vase, and in each and every one there was a small groove; a small groove that was filled with salt.

"Every window?" asked Sam.

"Every window," Stella confirmed. "It is part of the agreement with the maintenance company. Daddy said he was superstitious and that there always, always had to be full salt channels at each window in the front. The others around the house don't have them because renters need to be able to open and close them, but there's a special stash in the garage in case of emergency."

"What's upstairs?" Sam was looking at the stairway which connected to some sort of open sitting area with a balcony railing where you could look down into the living room.

Stella got up slowly and winced. "I'll show you, and then I'm going to take a nap." Dean kept a careful eye on Stella as she made her way up the stairs; he'd noticed she had started to look really tired at the end of the trip. The top of the stairs did open into a small sitting area with a love seat and chair. There was a small desk at the wall with access for a computer. The rest of the upstairs consisted of a second full bath and three bedrooms. There was a definite master that had a walk-in closet. The other two rooms were cozier. One held a queen bed and the other, two twin beds.

"Sam, I'd recommend this room." Stella gestured to the one with the queen bed. "But you can take whichever you like…"

"Sam can have that one, I'll take the twins," said Dean suddenly. Stella's head jerked back slightly and even Sam looked surprised.

"Dean? Why don't you want to sleep with…?"

"Oh." Dean shook his head and his look intensified as he interrupted Stella's question. "Oh, I do want to sleep with you, Stella. But you know me. I thrash around when I sleep. The last thing I want to do is start flailing around a hit your bad arm."

Her face softened. "Good point. Really good point."

The boys went to put their bags in their respective rooms and Stella gingerly climbed onto her bed. She didn't even bother pulling the comforter down. She shifted, trying to get comfortable, and wished she could just sleep on her side the way she liked. By the time Sam and Dean came back to check on her, Stella was fast asleep. Dean went into his room and grabbed a folded up quilt. He covered Stella with the quilt and walked quietly out of the room.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** First things first: Ooops. I always put a disclaimer on my stories and I totally forgot on this one. Bad me. No cookie. So, here is my official statement: The concept, world, and characters of "Supernatural" are not my creation; I can claim no ownership or rights to them in any way. I don't get any monetary compensation from this story, only personal enjoyment. I did, however, create the character of Stella Bodine, and she is my contribution to the Supernatural universe.

Now that that's out of the way… Thank you all for reading my story. I seem to have developed a small group of followers for this story, and I do appreciate all of you (and an extra shout-out to my two readers who have been reviewing as they go: you rock!). I hope you all continue enjoying Dean and Stella's excellent adventure.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Stella looked down at the bowl in front of her and poked her fork at the round pasta and itty-bitty meatballs. She raised her eyes slowly and gave Dean a look.

"Spaghetti-Os? Are you serious?"

"What?" He was defensive. "I got rolls, too."

On the other seat, Sam was laughing so hard he was nearly doubled over. It had been funny enough to see Dean in a real kitchen, but when he'd realized what the menu was for dinner? It was simply priceless. Stella was far from a food snob; they'd all eaten tuna out of a can or indulged in something like Spaghetti-Os when money got lean. But she had complained so loudly about the food in the hospital, Sam knew she was craving something more robust.

Dean turned on him. "You're a little bitch, Sam. I'm your brother; you're supposed to have my back." He threw down the hand towel he'd been holding and stomped out of the kitchen. He went to the side door and out onto the deck. Stella watched him walk to the front and lean on the deck rail.

"Shit," she muttered. "I think we really hurt his feelings, Sam." She got up and followed Dean. She stood next to him in silence for a minute, but he didn't look at her.

"Dean? I'm sorry."

He didn't say anything; didn't look at her. Finally, after a very long five minutes of deep silence, Stella turned away and started to head back into the house.

"I suck as a cook," said Dean. "Hell, I've eaten take-out for the past 20 years. I wanted to be back when you woke up, so I just found a crappy little corner store because I knew you'd be hungry. All I wanted to do was cook you dinner."

Stella stopped and turned back. She looked at her feet. "I'm sorry, Dean. I really am. I wasn't thinking about it that way. It was really nice of you to make dinner. If I was alone, all I'd be able to cook would be soup and Spaghetti-Os. I shouldn't have complained. Forgive me?"

"Maybe." Then he finally looked at Stella and gave her a crooked smile. "But only if you eat the whole bowl."

Over the next two weeks, Stella, Dean and Sam settled into a little bit of a domestic routine. It was an alien experience for all three of them. They were so used to moving from city to city, sometimes sleeping in their cars, hustling pool to get money when they needed it. Having a place to call home was a novel experience. The adjustment, however, was not without its rocky patches. The first fight was about the dishes. Stella, feeling badly that she couldn't do much of anything, would put as much as she could into the dishwasher. The brothers, however, had a penchant for just leaving their dishes in the sink. When you eat take out or just use paper plates, washing dishes doesn't become a habit. There were also "discussions" about a few other issues, but the worst was about hunting.

As much as all three of them appreciated the quiet and fantasy of domestic bliss, they were all hunters and too much quiet made them restless. It wasn't long before Sam was scanning the Internet, looking for signs of paranormal activity. Stella helped him for a bit, but Dean lost his mind when he found them debating whether or not some news articles hinted at a cursed object or not. As far as he was concerned, the time in Colorado was for Stella to recover and to him that meant no hunting. Dean started yelling at Sam, who had no problem yelling back. It wasn't long before Stella—tired of being the inanimate object in the argument—started making her opinions known. Her shouting strained her lung and brought on a fit of coughing and gasping that brought the fight to an instant stop. It flared a few more times before they figured out a compromise.

One afternoon, Stella had fallen asleep on the porch, warmed in the afternoon sun. Dean was relieved at how much better she looked. She wasn't pale anymore and the dark circles under her eyes had disappeared. Stella wasn't, however, better yet. She tired easily and could fall asleep in an instant like a cat that had found a sunny patch in a window. Dean let her sleep as much as he could; he knew rest was the best thing for her. It also kept her from nosing around on the laptop for supernatural events, something that was still a sore subject for him.

He looked down at her hand where it rested on top of the magazine she'd been flipping through. His old silver ring was shining in the sun on her middle finger. Dean didn't remember where he'd picked it up; it wasn't worth much. After the Hell Hounds had torn him up and killed him, Sam had taken Dean's golden amulet, the one he'd given Dean for Christmas one year when they were kids, as a keep-sake. Stella had asked Sam if she could take the ring, and of course Sam had said yes. He would have never denied Stella a memento of the man she loved. When Dean had been pulled out of Hell, Stella offered to give the ring back. Dean had said no, telling her to keep it. She wore it on the middle finger of her left hand, right next to her ring finger.

That memory stirred up a second one from the deeper reaches of Dean's memory…

"_Do you think you're ever going to find another woman like her, Dean?"_

_Dean downed another shot of Jack and ignored his brother. He looked around the bar. It was dingy run-down with the typical selection of humanity: A group of young men at the pool table trying to impress the pretty but vacant girls at the next one. The girls were giggling and flirting. Old-timers clustered at a corner of the bar. A bartender with thinning hair pulled into a skinny pony-tail wiped the bar and there were some waitresses making sure they gave the right patrons an easy view of some cleavage in the hopes of a higher tip. Dean sighed; compared to when he was hunting with Sam, this was June Cleaver normal for him._

"_Dean!"_

"_What?" He rolled his eyes at Sam._

"_So, why don't you marry her?" Sam leaned forward and raised his eyebrow at his brother._

"_We've discussed this, Sammy. I don't want to get into it again." _

"_She's a hunter so she understands this crazy life. Clearly she loves you for some odd reason…" Dean glanced at his brother, mildly offended by that, but Sam kept on talking. "She's great looking, not that that should matter… And you love her, Dean. I know you do. So, why not?" Sam wasn't going to let it go._

"_Sam." Dean sighed and rubbed his face. "What do I have to offer as a husband? I have a bag of clothes, the Impala, more fake IDs than I know what to do with, and a trunk full of weapons. I hunt friggin' demons for a living! So in other words, I've got jack squat. In less than a year, I'm getting dragged into Hell. I'm going to die, Sam! I'm going to die and I am not – NOT – leaving a widow behind."_

"_If you go to Hell, Dean, you're leaving Stella behind either way. What's the difference between leaving a girlfriend and leaving a wife? Does it really matter?"_

_Dean glared at his brother. "It matters to me, Sam. It matters to ME."_

_Signaling to the bartender, Dean watched him fill the shot glass. He threw it back and felt the whiskey burn down his throat and settle into his belly. Did Sam think he didn't want to marry Stella? There'd been precious few girls Dean had really loved during his life, and they all paled compared to Stella. But they were hunters. This wasn't a normal life. He'd know other hunters who were married, but Dean wanted more. To him, a wife meant a family, and a family needed a home. A home that was safe, where the kids went to the same school, and had high school sweethearts… not shotguns and bow hunting lessons and learning how to fight with a knife. No, unless he could give Stella those things, unless he could give himself those things, Dean Winchester was not going to be a marrying man._

Stella sighed in her sleep, pulling Dean out of his memory, and he wondered what she might be dreaming about. He looked at the ring again. Had he been wrong to be so stubborn about getting married? He couldn't imagine being with another woman any more. Sure, he looked at pretty girls. Hell, Stella looked at good-looking guys. But at the end of the day, they only saw each other. She really was the only star in the sky as far as he was concerned. What if… What if Stella Bodine became Stella Winchester?

Maybe Sam was right and Dean, for a moment, allowed himself the fantasy of a home – maybe right here in Colorado – with a couple rug-rats running around… Uncle Sam and Bobby coming over for Thanksgiving… Celebrating wedding anniversaries until him and Stella were old and wrinkled…

"Hey, there." Stella's voice was soft, still sleep-filled. "What are you thinking about, Dean?"

He took her hand in his and let his thumb rub back and forth over the silver ring. "Nothing important, baby. I was just daydreaming…"

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thank you! All of you have a whole lot of choices on ff-dot-net so thank you for spending your time on my story. I'm definitely having fun writing it – I hope you're having even more fun reading it. Don't worry, we've got some more action coming up. If you're so inclined, I'd love to get feedback from you about what you like about the story, what you think I could improve on. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"I'm telling you, Dean. There's something going on in Utah. A rash of drownings. All young men—good looking men. All at the same lake. All at night. Something freaky is definitely going on there." Sam pointed at the laptop. Dean had to admit, it sounded legitimate. He glanced sideways at Stella.

"I see you getting excited over the prospect of a job," she said. "Don't you try to hide it."

"Stella…"

"What? Dean, you guys should totally check it out. I'd go in a heartbeat, but I'm not going to do you much good. Damn arm."

"So, you wouldn't care if we went without you?" asked Sam.

"Well, I sorta care. I mean, I don't like warming the bench over here, but we've all hunted on our own before. There's nothing that says we always have to hunt as a trio… Really. Go. I'll be fine." Stella sincerely did want them to go. Too much down time and they were all going to get rusty. If the boys went out on a few hunts, at least their skills would stay sharp. And the looks on their faces? They were eager to go, eager for some action.

"How far away is this place?" asked Dean.

"About 300 miles, but the way the roads go through the mountains, it could take four or five hours to get there. Town is Green River, Utah," answered Sam.

"Really not that far," said Stella. "And I can be here if you need any extra research done. I might not be ready for a job in the field, but I can click a mouse without hurting myself."

Dean nodded. "Okay, let's do the job, Sam. We'll leave first thing in the morning. But I'm calling Bobby now so he knows we're going and he can check in on you, Stella."

"Oh, for God's sake," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"And no back-talk from you woman," he added. The pillow hit him square in the back of the head as he put the cell to his ear. For a righty, Stella's aim with her left hand was getting pretty darn accurate.

It was a four-and-a-half hour drive from Steamboat to Green River, and a little part of both Winchester brothers was glad to be on the road again, back on a job. Dean used one hand to rummage through his box of old cassette tapes. Despite frequent "suggestions" from both Stella and Sam, Dean refused to upgrade his audio to a CD player, forget an iPod system. He popped a new cassette in and the Impala was filled with Richie Sambora's guitar work and the vocal stylings of Jon Bon Jovi singing "Bad Medicine."

Sam turned in his seat and stared. Clearly Dean had slept next to a pod last night; his brother hated Bon Jovi, and had mocked Sam mercilessly whenever Sam even hinted he liked the band.

"Dude. Bon Jovi? What have you been drinking?" he asked Dean.

"What? Hey, gotta give things a chance sometimes. Band kinda grew on me." Dean stared straight ahead.

Sam laughed. "Yea, whatever, Dean. Stella grew on you, that's what happened. You like Bon Jovi now because SHE likes Bon Jovi. She started training you when we were in Upstate New York that time. What was it? Corning?"

_Stella and the Winchester boys had finished a quick job outside Corning, NY—Just a simple salt and burn to get rid of a restless spirit that was just causing some general mayhem in the town. They were on their way out of town when a 17-year-old boy, who had just gotten his driver's license the day before, went through a stop sign and took out the Impala's rear quarter panel. The poor kid had almost wet himself when Dean, dressed in his leather jacket and shades, got out of the Impala, along with Sam. Stella pulled up a minute later in the Camaro, just in time to hear Dean yell, "You hit my damn car!"_

_The upshot was that the Impala couldn't be driven far; the panel was dented in far enough to be rubbing the tire. There was no way they could get it all the way to Bobby's without doing even more damage. Dean found a repair shop in Corning that could do the work, but it would take a few days. As they pulled out of the body shop parking lot, Stella fiddled with the car's CD changer._

"_Oh, man, not Bon Jovi," groused Dean._

_Stella skewered him with a look. "Let me remind you of the Winchester Radio Rules," she said. "Driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cake hole."_

"It was priceless," said Sam. "She caught you in your own rule and you sulked for the next 30 miles."

"I did not sulk."

"Dean, you sulked."

They found a place to stay in Green River– the Red Barn Motel–and went inside for a minute before getting to work on the hunt. They both looked at the dated artwork and the faded red shag carpet, and momentarily pined for Chateau Bodine. But a job was a job, and this was far from the worst place they'd ever stayed. They spent the next several hours combing the town, posing as FBI Agents Geddy and Lee, interviewing victim's family and friends, and trying to piece together what happened.

They decided to just get some take-out from the diner down the street and eat in the room so Sam could do a little more research on the lake where the deaths had happened. By the time they got to the diner, Dean was particularly quiet, except when he was curt to the cashier. They ate in relative silence and after, Dean started to flip through some recent newspapers and Sam started surfing the 'Net. About a half-hour later, Dean tossed the paper on the floor in frustration.

"That was a waste of time," he growled. He got up, and started to pace around the room.

"Could you be more crabby?" asked Sam. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing. It's just, well you know I don't like the idea of leaving Stella…"

"For starters, Dean, you're going to have to get over this worrying-about-Stella thing. She's healing just fine and by fall she'll be hunting with us again." Sam had been wondering when Dean's over-protectiveness was going to start causing a problem. Dean grumbled at his brother and Sam leaned back in his chair.

"So," Sam continued, "now are you going to tell me what's really bothering you?"

Dean flopped backwards and sprawled across his bed. "Stella got hurt, what, six, seven weeks ago?"

"That's about right," answered Sam.

"Do you remember the night before we went to the house where the shape-shifters were?"

Sam was silent for a second, thinking. Then it came to him. "Ah, yes. I came back to the motel with dinner early and interrupted your reindeer games."

"Hey, a Santa hat isn't just for Christmas anymore…" Dean grinned.

"Classy. What's this all got to do with your bitchy attitude?"

"Well, if you do the math, Einstein, you'll figure out that I haven't had any gifts to unwrap since that night…"

Sam's chair came down with a thump as he suddenly understood. "Seven weeks? Holy crap, Dean…" Sam knew his brother and Dean had always been more sexually adventurous and active than him. Rarely would a full week go by when Dean didn't hook-up with some girl. Sam was no prude, but he was definitely more conservative than his brother when it came to sex.

Dean rubbed his hands over his face. "I mean, I've been handling my business…"

"Handling your… Oh, man… Dean! I don't want to hear about you handling anything. Too much detail. Way, way too much detail…"

"What? Aww, Sam! Get outta the gutter. That's not what I meant…" Dean started to explain, but gave up as he started to laugh. A moment later both brothers were howling, nearly in tears. After they'd laughed themselves out, Dean sat up.

"Seriously, Sam. I'm losing my mind not being able to get with her."

"Well, have you guys asked her doctor if it is okay?"

Dean looked at him like he was insane. "No. I'm not talking to some doctor about whether or not I can have sex with my girlfriend. Shit, I can't believe I'm talking to YOU about it."

"You'd get an answer to your question. Or better yet, ask Stella. She just might be waiting for you to make the first move."

"No, trust me, if Stella wants to make a move, she'll make a move."

Sam shrugged. Nothing much else he could say to solve his brother's dilemma. Instead he moved the conversation to a different topic: his research. "Well, I think I might know what caused the spirit to start acting up. There's a bunch of new construction going up around the lake and part of it is in an area where a woman named Anita Duval was murdered in 1930s. They found most of her body in the lake; the police never recovered her head."

"That would piss me off…" agreed Dean.

"My best guess is that whoever killed her—the murder is still unsolved—buried her head. I bet the area where her head was buried has been disturbed by the construction, and her spirit's been released. But I don't know about the singing…"

"Wait a sec." Dean started flipping through their father's journal. "I remember seeing something here once. Dad wrote about sirens once, but there was something else. Here it is. A Rusalka. It is a spirit of a woman who died in the water, either murder or suicide. They sing to seduce men and draw them underwater to become their lovers. They feed off of the victim, almost like a vampire, until the person drowns."

"So, if that's what it is, how do we kill it?" asked Sam. "Do we need to go find her skull and then burn all her bones?"

"I wish," said Dean. "According to Dad, the Rusalka will vanish if her death is avenged. Fat chance of that happening at this point. The only other way according to this is to keep her out of the water long enough for her hair to completely dry."

"And exactly how are we supposed to do that?"

"Time for a little more research, Sammy."

By evening, they had a plan. Like most Winchester strategies, it came with the caveat of 'if you have a better idea, I'm listening.' Neither had one. The plan was for Sam to be the bait and lure the Rusalka out of the water. Dean's rational was that Sam was younger and therefore more appealing to the creature. Sam told him he was an ass. As for the creature's siren song, they went with the old-fashioned solution: wax in the ears. If it was good enough for Odysseus, it was good enough for the Winchesters.

Out at the lake, they'd waited for several hours and the night was deepening. From time to time, Sam would yell out, calling as if he was looking for someone. Then, out in the lake, there was a ripple in the water. He saw it and flicked a small rock into the bushes where Dean was hiding. His brother waved quickly and settled down. Slowly, out of the water, the Rusalka materialized. To Dean, it was fuzzy, amorphous, but to Sam it looked like a beautiful woman. She came forward, holding her arms out to Sam. Dean couldn't understand it but clearly Sam could make sense of what it was saying.

"I can't come in the water," he said. "Come sit here with me." Sam held his hand out to the ghostly woman. She came closer, swaying and reaching for Sam. Suddenly, the creature surged forward, catching him off-guard. She seized Sam and kissed him. In the first instant of the kiss, the Rusalka's lips were warm and inviting, but as her grip tightened the warm lips turned clammy and the smell of lake algae threatened to make Sam throw up. Sam struggled but couldn't break free of the Rusalka's grip. A moment later, he started gagging as water from the creature's mouth started pouring into his. If it couldn't get him to the water, it was going to drown him right here on dry land.

"Get away from him you crazy bitch!" shouted Dean. He rushed out from where he'd been hiding and waved his arms.

Startled by the unexpected interloper, the Rusalka snarled and backed away from Sam, who dropped to the ground gagging and heaving. But when she saw that Dean was unarmed, she smiled, and when she did her whole appearance changed—and now Dean could see her quite clearly. She morphed from a sunken cadaver with long chunks of wet, lanky hair and a tattered dress to a beautiful young woman whose wet nightgown clung to her body, leaving very little to the imagination. She started to talk and it came out as song. The wax in Dean's ears blocked most of it, but he could still feel the temptation, the compulsion, the desire.

"Come with me," beckoned the creature. "Let me love you." The Rusalka backed up another two paces, Dean following as if enthralled by her spell.

"You're so beautiful," he said. "I want you to be mine. I need you…" Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Sam moving into position.

The creature fluttered its eyelashes coquettishly at Dean. "Yes, come with me, love me. Take me in your arms and I will make all your fantasies come true…"

Dean stopped. "Oh, you'll fulfill my fantasy all right. Skeevie algae-covered freak. Now, Sam!" Both brothers lit cigarette lighters and tossed them on the ground where they'd laid a track of gasoline down earlier in the day. Flames leaped up and the Rusalka screamed and flung up her arms. She turned to flee back to the lake, but the flames raced around the gas path and met up, encasing her in a flaming circle.

Sam grabbed a bag from behind the tree where he'd been waiting. He pulled out a small canister of gas. Dean joined him with an armful of branches and brush. They both still had wax in their ears to keep from being too influenced by the Rusalka's hypnotic voice, but they didn't need to talk, they both knew the plan. They started dousing the other branches with gas and lighting them on fire. Taking the flaming branches, they tossed them into the flames, making sure the ring stayed connected. The creature would rush at them but couldn't cross the flames. Inside the ring, the Rusalka started to keen, a high-pitched wail that was anything but hypnotic and enticing. And she started to steam.

"Look at that!" Sam pointed at the rising steam. "The fire's working. She's drying out."

"Keep stoking the flames, we've got to keep them hot," shouted Dean.

It took two hours but the drier the Rusalka became the more she started to fade and the softer her raging voice became. As the last chunk of wet hair on her head dried out, she shriveled up and disintegrated into nothing more than ashes and dust. The brothers let the flames die down and then went into the charred ring. They dug a hole to one side of the pile and shoveled the ashes in. Sam crowned them with a coating of salt, just to be safe, and they buried everything.

"C'mon," Sam said. "We can get a few hours of shut-eye before the motel kicks us out."

In the morning, the boys wolfed down a breakfast and checked out of the Red Barn Motel. Dean had just put the key into the Impala's ignition when he flipped open his phone and pressed a speed dial number. Sam knew he was calling Stella just from the smile that appeared on Dean's face when she picked up the phone. "Hey, baby, how are you feeling? Good. We're done here and just getting on the road now. Oh, it was interesting—Sammy got Frenched by a lady swamp ghost. Yea, very kinky. I'll see you in a few hours… I miss you, too." He laughed. "Yea, we'd love a Spaghetti-Os feast when we get back."

Dean made it back to Steamboat in less than four hours.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Well, the boys are back in business! Thanks again to everyone who has been reading my story. I hope you enjoyed the hunt – I wanted to get some action in here for Sam and Dean without belaboring the point. I hope I provided enough detail for it to be satisfying. And I hope the humor worked and fit with the characters… The next chapter will be coming soon…!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Not long after they returned from Utah, Dean got a call from Bobby asking him to meet up with another hunter. This acquaintance of Bobby's, Luke, was passing through the Steamboat area and looking for some information. Stella needed a ride to her doctor appointment that same day, but Sam offered to take her so that Dean could do this favor for Bobby.

Once they got to the medical complex, Sam knew it would be a while until Stella was finished with her exam. He amused himself while he cooled his heels in the waiting room, flipping through magazines and flirting with some of the nurses. Stella went through the usual regiment of questions with Dr. VanAyles and then endured a lung test, a scan for her liver, and several tests to look at the strength and mobility in her arm and shoulder. At the end of the exam, when Stella didn't get up right away, Dr. VanAyles looked up and over the rim of her glasses.

"Do you have another question, Stella?"

"Yea, actually, I do." Stella turned a little red. "You see, since my accident, my boyfriend and I… Well, we haven't… done… we haven't… Okay, we haven't had sex in like seven weeks and I'm dying here, Doc. That's almost two months. Am I okay to, you know…?"

The doctor leaned back in her chair and managed to not look amused. "Well, your liver is fine and based on all of your tests, your lung capacity and strength is pretty much back in normal ranges, so I would say it is just fine to start doing most of the things you did before the accident. Including sex. Now, your clavicle hasn't fully healed, so although you're not restricted to the sling all the time and you're feeling better, you need to be aware of that. You can't support a lot of weight."

"We'll keep it very vanilla," Stella promised. "Thanks, Doc."

"You're welcome. I'll see you in two weeks for another look at your shoulder and what I think will be the final tests on your lung. You've done a great job keeping up with the therapy, don't quit now." The doctor went back to her file.

When Sam and Stella got home, the Impala was still missing but Stella had a message on her phone that Dean would be back in a few hours. She went upstairs and took a long, hot shower. When she came downstairs, she had a plan. Sam was sitting on the sofa with the TV on. She sat down at the opposite end of the couch and watched the program with him. It was some random History Channel program; Stella wasn't surprised. It was right up Sam's alley.

"Sam, I need you to do something for me tonight."

"Sure, Stella. Anything. What's up?" He muted the TV so she wouldn't have to talk over it.

Stella shifted on her cushion and put a foot up on the coffee table. "I need you to go out tonight."

"Go out? What do you mean go out?" Sam was confused.

"I mean go out, out. Go to the Ghost Ranch Saloon… The Tugboat… Rancho Nuevo… maybe even all of them. You've been babysitting me forever, Sam. I want you to go out have some fun, blow off a little steam. Find yourself some off-season ski bunny…" Stella beamed a smile at him. "And take the Camaro. I'll be fine on my own for a little bit; you don't have to wait for Dean to get back."

_Take the Camaro?_ That raised all sorts of red flags for Sam. "What do you mean, 'take the Camaro?' What's going on Stella?"

Stella sighed and rubbed her fingers along her collar bone. She was able to start spending time out of the sling each day, but it was still tender. "When I talked to the doctor today, I asked her a couple questions…"

"Stella, are you okay?" Sam leaned forward, apprehensive.

She truly appreciated the sincere concern that she heard in Sam's voice. He was a good man and she was really fond of him. "Nothing's wrong. It is just that I finally have the okay to spend some, ah, quality time with Dean. Alone."

"Okay… Oh. Oh!" Alone time. The light suddenly dawned for Sam, and he remembered Dean's comment in Utah: _If Stella wants to make a move, she'll make a move._ "Give me 20 minutes and I'll be out of your hair."

He practically jumped off the stairs and disappeared up the stairs. A moment later, Stella could hear the shower running. She poured herself a glass of lemonade and went outside to the deck. She'd been Dr. VanAyles' very last appointment of the day and now the sun was down behind the mountains, but there was a watercolor painted sky with sunset golds and pinks still visible over the darkening Rockies. It was a beautiful valley.

Stella took a long drink of the lemonade. It was just slightly tart, just the way she liked it. As she looked out over the valley, she fantasized about Dean coming home. It had been so long… The thought of having time alone with him was nearly unbearable in the most wonderful way. A small grin spread across her face. If Sam was gone, there would be plenty of privacy right there on the deck.

"Behave you," Stella warned herself. "Too many chances out here to hurt yourself again. Keep it vanilla for now. But this deck definitely goes on our list…" Then she just started to laugh.

_The List was created one day during a lull in a hunt, and she and Dean had found a way to pass a little time. They had disappeared for a few minutes; it couldn't have been more than 15 or 20. When they came back into the motel room, Sam looked up and just shook his head. Dean tossed a bag of potato chips onto the bed._

"_Are the two of you serious?" asked Sam._

"_What, I said we were running out to get a snack," said Dean._

"_Clearly," said Sam. "By the way, Stella? Your shirt buttons are done wrong."_

_Stella's eyes got big and her cheeks turned pink. She looked down and, sure enough, the front of her shirt was buttoned incorrectly and looked completely askew. Dean just laughed while Stella turned her back on them and quickly readjusted her wardrobe._

"_Is there anywhere the two of you haven't had sex?"_

_Without hesitation, Stella answered. "Fenway Park. On the field in front of the Green Monster."_

_Dean chimed in, "The observation deck at Niagara Falls. I think you'd look hot in a yellow slicker, Stella."_

"_Oh," she said, "and also on the list is the back of a police car, but only if I can cuff Dean…"_

_Sam knew they were screwing with him and he also knew that they would continue to come up with creative answers to that question just to watch him squirm. He didn't say anything; he just put his hands up in surrender and walked out of the room._

"_We've gotta find him a girl," said Dean._

Ever since then, Stella and Dean would – every now and again – mention another unusual or ridiculous place that was on the newly created List. Most of the time they were simply fooling around, but every now and then the place was serious. This deck was on Stella's serious list. She took another drink of lemonade.

Sam came out on the deck to find her once he was ready. He was wearing the usual Winchester fare: jeans, a t-shirt, and a rugged looking button down over that. He wore it with a casual confidence that raised the attractive factor exponentially. Around his neck was a leather thong with a simple silver medallion on it. For the average person, it might be a conversation piece but the real purpose was an extra ward against evil critters. Stella gave him the once over and nodded approvingly. If she was single and saw Sam Winchester in a bar tonight, he'd certainly catch her eye. She handed him the keys to her car.

"Okay, Stella, I'm outta here. I'll be back later. I promise it won't be before midnight. Have fun."

She laughed and gave Sam a quick kiss on the cheek. "We will. I promise. You're a prince, Sam. Thank you."

Sam was half-way down the outside stairs when Stella leaned over the rail. "Hey, Sam… One more thing…"

He stopped and looked up. "What's that?"

"Have fun, but if you scratch the Camaro there will be Hell to pay tomorrow," she warned.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thank you for reading (and for reviewing) my story. I hope you're enjoying it so far. I do appreciate reviews, so if you are inclined to do so, please take a sec and let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Sam had been gone for about 40 minutes when the Impala rolled in. Dean parked and looked around. There were plenty of house lights on, but the Camaro was missing. That was unusual and anything unusual put him on guard. He'd learned early in life that it was safer to be suspicious. He got out of the Impala and closed the door quietly.

Maybe Sam ran out for something? No, that didn't feel right. If they'd needed anything, Sam or Stella would have called his cell and detoured him to the store. He looked warily around as he walked up the deck stairs, looking for movements in the shadow and listening for sounds that shouldn't be there. With all of the windows in the front, it was easy to see most of the downstairs and clearly no one was there. He opened the door quietly and slipped inside, putting his keys down on the island. _Where were Sam and Stella? Were they gone?_ Suddenly, for a split second, an evil memory from his confinement in Hell burned through Dean… Sam and Stella… he shook his head to drive the mental images away. _No. No, those were all lies. Those were all Alistair's lies. _The moment rattled Dean, those were memories he'd locked away and hadn't thought about in a long time.

"Stella? Sam?" Dean called out into the silence of the house. Then he heard her voice, and the pain and fear dissolved, washed away, and he felt the darkness lift.

"I'm upstairs! Everything go okay with Bobby's friend?"

"Yea, he's got all the info he needs." Dean headed up the stairs. "Where's Sammy?"

"Out."

"Out?" asked Dean as he got to the top of the landing.

"Yes, he's out for a night on the town."

That puzzled Dean a little but he shrugged it off. Stella sounded like she was in her room; Dean went to the door so they didn't have to shout the conversation across half the house. "So, this Luke guy. He was looking for information on…"

Dean's voice got soft and trailed away when he walked into the bedroom. Stella was sitting in the middle of the bed, leaning against some pillows. She was wearing one of Dean's light denim button-down shirts and that was apparently all. Dean let his eyes stroll the length of those long tanned legs from the toes all the way up to where they disappeared under the hem of his shirt. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. She was smiling and it was that same sexy, sultry smile he remembered from the back seat of the Impala. Dean licked his lips and realized he felt very warm all of a sudden.

She patted the bed next to her. "Sit for a minute?"

He slid onto the bed but before he could say anything Stella leaned in and kissed him, letting her sore arm gently rise so that she could caress his face and neck. Dean didn't hesitate to kiss her back and slowly gathered Stella up in his arms, being careful of her shoulder. He kissed her lips, her cheeks, her neck.

"I miss being with you, Dean," she said softly.

He kissed her again, his breath a little short. "I miss it too, baby." He ran a hand down the length of her bare leg and then back up, savoring the feel of her skin under his fingers. "But you…"

She put a finger to his lips. "I know. I was in no shape to be romping around with you. But I asked the doctor today if it was okay, and she gave us the green light. We have to be pretty plain vanilla for a little bit, no kinky acrobatics, and I can't support a lot of weight on my shoulder yet… but I think there's still plenty we can do to entertain ourselves…" She ran a single finger down the front of his chest, moving it along the contour of the muscles.

_Oh, yes please,_ thought Dean. His hand slid from Stella's leg, under the shirt hem, to her hip and then her waist and he felt her stomach muscles tighten in response. Dean's voice was low and husky in her ear and Stella felt lightheaded having him so close after so long.

"Have I ever told you that vanilla is my very favorite flavor?" he whispered.

He kissed Stella again, leaning forward and pressing her back into the pillows. He started slowly working on the shirt, unbuttoning one button at a time, revealing more and more skin as the halves came apart. Over Stella's heart was a tattoo that matched the one he and Sam both had: a pentagram outlined with flames, a talisman symbol that prevented demonic possession. The Winchesters had gotten theirs shortly after Sam had been possessed, nearly assaulted Jo, and almost killed Dean before Dean and Bobby were able to exorcise it. Stella had seen the wisdom of a permanent symbol and gotten hers shortly after she'd met the boys. He planted a long, lingering kiss on the center of it, and Stella sighed.

Dean stood up and pulled off his shirt. Stella lay back on the bed, her own shirt now unbuttoned and open so Dean could see the lingerie hidden beneath: a lacy black bra and matching boy-short panties. She curled a section of hair slowly around one finger and watched him while he kicked off his boots and divested himself of his jeans. Dean slid onto the bed with her clad only in his own boxer briefs.

He began to kiss his way up her body. He started at the knee, then moved to the thigh. From there he lingered at her hip, kissing the skin along the edge of her panties and listening to the changes in Stella's breathing. He could have never imagined that it would be such a turn-on to know he could make someone breathless. Dean's lips grazed the skin around her navel and moved to where her ribs started to meet in the center. By the time he reached the delicate skin around and under the edge of her bra, Stella's body was starting to move, to tangle with his own, and Dean realized he was covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

"I think about being with you every day," he whispered as he hooked her panties with his fingers, sliding them slowly down her legs. He took a moment to stare at her, appreciative and unabashed; Stella had, as far as he was concerned, a magnificent body. Lithe and athletic, she had well-defined muscles but enough womanly curves to make her a real woman not some underweight stick figure. He moved and rolled so that Stella was pinned beneath him but he froze when she winced; he'd bumped her shoulder

"I don't want to put too much weight on you…" Wrapped up in his desire, Dean was nearly panting but he'd seen the wince and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. But with Stella so close, her legs now tangled with his, Dean was starting to feel out of control. Stella, who was in much the same state, pushed at him with her good arm.

"Lie back," she ordered softly. Dean rolled onto his back and Stella threw her leg over, straddling him. He couldn't help but smile as he looked up at her. Stella supported herself with her good arm and leaned down, kissing his chest and neck. Dean groaned and twisted his fingers into the sheets before he finally pulled Stella's face down and kissed her passionately.

"I love you so much," said Stella.

"I love you, too," said Dean. "You're everything to me." He slid his hands up Stella's waist and belly, up until he traced the tattoo over her heart and—ever-so-gently—caressed her shoulders and neck. Stella kissed the palm of his hand.

"You ready, lover?" she asked, sitting up straighter.

Dean ran his palms up Stella's thighs. "I've been ready for the past six… Oh… God… weeks… Oh, Stella…" He didn't finish his sentence. Instead, his eyes rolled back in his head as the sensation of becoming part of Stella coursed through him. He called Stella's name repeatedly and dug his fingers into her thighs; Stella didn't even notice his grip - she was only paying attention to Dean's voice as she moved slowly, deliberately, relishing every last sensation. Dean reached for Stella and he laced his fingers through hers.

"Dean…" She sounded breathless.

"I'm right here, Stella." He kept his fingers entwined with hers.

"Kiss me…"

Dean let go of her hands and pushed himself up to a sitting position. He wrapped one arm around Stella's waist, keep her as close as possible. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, he slid his hands up her back to her shoulders and she leaned her head down into his waiting embrace. Stella threw her head back and gasped as Dean shuddered and cried out one more time. After, he kept his arms wrapped around Stella, continuing to kiss her.

He looked up into Stella's eyes. "You are… just… how did I get so lucky?"

"Because you're you," she answered. "And you are everything I've ever wanted."

Later, sated and drowsy, Dean and Stella relaxed on the bed. Stella settled onto her left side and Dean lay down behind her. She shut her eyes. It felt so good to feel him next to her in the bed again. Until he'd started sleeping in the other room, she hadn't realized how warm and safe she felt with Dean near her; it scared Stella a little. As a hunter, she'd learned never to depend on anyone but herself but in the past few years, she'd come to count on the Winchester brothers.

"Are you going to be comfortable?" Dean asked. "I could…"

"You aren't going anywhere, mister. You are staying right here with me."

He smiled, and as he slid his arm around Stella's middle he whispered in her ear. "Starlight, Starbright… You're the only star I see tonight. You're the only star I ever see. My StellaLuna."

Stella smiled at the words and pushed back into him a little; she sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. She dropped off to sleep feeling Dean's arms around her and his breath on her shoulder.

It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when Sam got home. It was silent inside, so he knew that Stella and Dean were asleep. He crept through the house as quietly as he could and shut off the downstairs lights after he locked up. Stepping gingerly, he headed up the stairs and once he got to the top of the landing he paused. Instead of going right to his own room, Sam went to the master bedroom. The door was partly open and he pushed it wider, hoping the hinges wouldn't squeak too loudly. It was a risk, not knowing what he might see inside, but he had to know.

Light spilled in from the hall and Sam smiled.

Stella and Dean were both sound asleep; practically in the same position they'd been in when the satisfied drowsiness first overtook them. On his left side, Dean had one arm tucked under his head and the other resting protectively on Stella's hip. Stella, also on her left side, had her back pressed right up against Dean. The sheet covered enough of them so that Sam didn't feel like some voyeur, but it was apparent to him that both Stella and Dean were naked. They both looked peaceful and happy.

Sam smiled again and closed the door behind him.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thank you for reading. I would absolutely love to get feedback on this chapter if you are so inclined. As a writer, I have always been pretty insecure about writing sex scenes (those of you who may have read my other work will be familiar with this neurosis of mine). I don't want them to sound like a really flowery romance-writer type of thing, but I don't want to be so graphic that it seems like, well, porn. But I do want a balance of romance and realism. I think I'm doing okay with it, but if you have thoughts about what works and what doesn't, I'd really welcome them.

I'll try to update soon – but now I'm really into my chapters that only have outline notes, so I've got to get a little writing done!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Stella, we're going to stop over at Mason's," said Dean. "Can we catch up with you in the store?"

"Stop over? You mean, will I come drag you away from the gun collection in Mason's when I'm done." She smiled at the boys. They were close to regulars at Mason's now. It was a hunting and outfitting store and many of the gadgets applied to hunting demons and spirits, too. The boys had purchased just enough to become regulars without seeming too strange—not an easy task given what they did for a living.

Stella sent them on their way, despite the fact that she would have preferred to go to Mason's too, and went into the grocery store. She'd had a yen for steak on the grill tonight and Dean, who was the red-meat king, was all for it. Stella strolled through the produce section with her cart. She picked out peppers, zucchini and onions to grill, and two large tomatoes. She spent a few minutes sorting through the potatoes, looking for the perfect ones to bake: large, uniform in size, and no odd lumps or spots. She also went to the store's bakery and found two other things: some fresh crusty rolls and an apple pie for dessert.

_We've all gotten spoiled,_ she thought as she compared two pies. _When we're back on the road, we'll never eat like this unless we got to a nice restaurant. _Stella would be the first one to admit, she wasn't much of a cook, but before she died her Momma had taught her how to make a few, simple, rib-sticking recipes. Her Daddy had been the steak man. Having a good grilled steak was a treat and some of Stella's favorite memories of her father were when they were between jobs, cooking some steaks on a grill in some park. Maybe that was why she wanted to have meals like this before the summer ended, to make a few of these memories with Dean.

She pushed her cart down the aisle and towards the butcher. Stella went directly past the chicken and the pork and stopped in front of the case full of beef. She disregarded the sirloin immediately. It was cheaper but it could be dry and tough. She picked up one package with a nice piece of porterhouse in it. Nice marbling and that meant good flavor, plus it was nice and thick. It would take a little longer to grill but again, the thickness would help prevent dryness. As she started to sort through the packages, looking for the best porterhouses, something caught Stella's eye: a man.

He was standing a little down from her at the meat case, looking mostly at the large roast beefs. On the surface he didn't seem out of the ordinary. Average height, about 40 years old. He had a little grey in his hair, but it was the intensity with which he was looking at the meat that made Stella take notice. He was checking the items in the case with an intensity that was unnerving.

Stella picked out three porterhouses, and then added a fourth to the cart because feeding Sam and Dean was sometimes like feeding two tapeworms. They never seemed to have enough. Add that to Dean's love-affair with red meat and it was a guarantee that there wouldn't be enough beef to go around. Throughout this process, Stella kept watching the man and his behavior seemed increasingly odd. Then she took a step down the case and pretended to look over some packages of ground beef so she'd have a reason to continue watching him.

He picked up a roast beef and ran his hands over the plastic covering. It was a gentle, almost loving touch. He stared at the roast, watching the juice run beneath the plastic to escape the pressure of his fingers. Clearly, he was fascinated. He put that one down and picked up another, handling it the same way. This time he brought the roast close to his face; he shut his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Stella grew uneasy; this guy set off all of her hunter alarms.

She reached for one more packet of hamburger and it took all of her effort to not look when she felt him still and turn his attention to her. She gave the packet a quick once over and put it into the cart. Turning her shopping cart, Stella walked past him. He was looking at her and they made brief eye contact. She gave him a polite smile and murmured some random pleasantry as she walked by and went down the next available aisle. As she made the turn, she glanced back. He watched her for a moment and then turned back to the roasts.

Out in the parking lot, Stella made putting the groceries into the back seat of the Impala a short therapy session for her shoulder. She lifted a few of the smaller bags with her weaker arm; it was uncomfortable but not painful. She was getting stronger. It wouldn't be much longer before she could ramp up the intensity of her workouts. She smiled, satisfied with her progress; it wouldn't be long before she'd be hunting again. She slid into the front seat intending to swap the cassette currently in Dean's deck with one she'd picked up at a yard sale: Air Supply's Greatest Hits. But she never made the switch—out of the store came the guy with the roast beef fetish.

She watched him as he walked through the parking lot and pulled out her cell phone. Activating the camera option, she held it up discreetly and clicked a few pictures. They weren't the greatest shots at the distance he was at, but anyone looking at them would be able to have a general idea of what he looked like. Stella slouched down in the front seat, making it harder to tell she was in the car and watched him drive out. He drove a dark green Chevy pick-up truck.

Stella waited in the car for nearly ten minutes, observing the traffic in and out of the parking lot and making sure the green truck didn't return. Once she was convinced he had truly left she went across the street to Mason's to find Sam and Dean. She was not surprised to see both of them examining shotguns and discussing the finer points of buckshot with the department manager. It was nearly suppertime when they got back to the house. Fortunately, despite their clear culinary shortcomings, the Winchester boys at least knew how to grill a steak the right way and while they took care of the grilling, Stella got the deck table set and brought out some cold beers.

Once they sat down to eat, Dean set to his steak like he hadn't eaten in days. After a minute of listening to the unintelligible "happy" noises he was making, Stella paused. She glanced at Sam. He wasn't looking anywhere but his own plate but he was smiling and shaking his head.

"Dean. Dean!"

He froze, fork half-way to his mouth, and looked up.

"I'm glad you like it, but the steak is not going to run away," she said with a laugh. "You can take your time and enjoy it, you know."

He smiled and leaned back, taking a drink of his beer. "It's good steak," he said. But he took a break, taking a minute to put some butter on his baked potato and have another sip of beer.

"So, let me ask you guys something," Stella said. "I saw this guy in the store today, and he kinda got my freaky radar going."

"Your freaky radar?" asked Sam.

"You know, that feeling you get, the one that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck? That feeling that most people ignore but we know better?" She took another bite of her steak.

"What did you see? What made this dude weird?" asked Dean.

"I was picking out the steaks and he was at the other end of the meat case. He was about 40 years old, a little shorter than you, Dean. A bit of grey in his hair—pretty average looking all in all. But it was what he was doing. He was picking up the roast beefs and examining them. No examining is the wrong word, he was practically fondling them."

"He was… fondling… them?" Dean was a little skeeved out by that idea.

"Yea, it was a little gross. He would run his hands over the package and watch the juice move under the pressure of his fingers. And he sniffed it like it was the most delicious thing he'd ever gotten a whiff of…"

"What did his skin and eyes look like?" asked Sam.

"Normal," said Stella after thinking for minute. "He was a bit pale but nothing unusual. And I didn't really see his eyes, but from what I could see, nothing was out of the ordinary. Why?"

Sam looked at his brother. "Sounds like the start of a rugaru transformation to me," he said.

"Great," said Dean. "The last one was so much fun." He took another bite of steak.

"A rugaru? You guys have handled one before? I've only ever heard about them," said Stella.

"We crossed paths with another hunter—guy named Travis, actually—and he was hunting a rugaru. He told us that the rugaru 'gene' runs in families. He'd killed the father but couldn't bring himself to kill a little boy when he didn't know if he was going to turn or not. But once he'd grown up, the kid started showing signs of the transformation and that's why Travis was after him."

"For a good part of their lives," added Dean, "a rugaru looks like a normal person, but at some point, he becomes consumed by hunger. During this part of the transformation a rugaru will feed on any meat it can get, but it will have a growing compulsion to feed on human flesh."

"Wonderful," said Stella. "That's encouraging."

"It is the human flesh that turns them," said Sam. "One bite of human flesh and the rugaru will transform inwardly and outwardly. The skin will get rough and nasty looking and the eyes will get severely bloodshot and look red, especially around the rims. Once that happens it can never go back and it will never stop killing."

"How do you stop one?" asked Stella.

"Only way is to set it on fire," said Dean. "You've got to burn it to death or it will keep on killing." It struck Stella how simple and matter-of-fact Dean's answer was. They truly did lead strange lives.

"There's a problem," said Sam.

"A problem? What kind of problem?" Stella didn't like problems.

"Travis told us that rugarus only operate on base instinct, but he was wrong. The one we hunted could still communicate even in the final stage of his transformation. He understood what was going on and he tried to resist the change. He failed, but he tried." Sam sighed heavily. He'd burned Jack Montgomery, the rugaru, to death in order to save Dean from becoming the creature's second meal of the evening.

"What did Travis think of your discovery," asked Stella.

"He didn't," said Dean. "The rugaru transformed when he killed Travis. And ate part of him."

"Lovely." Stella took a long drink of her beer.

"Why don't we head back into town tomorrow, Dean." Sam was looking thoughtful. "Maybe we can find this guy and check him out. And if we need to, we can talk to him."

"And that went so well last time," growled Dean.

"We have to at least try," Sam countered. "We can't just torch the guy because he MIGHT do something."

While the boys argued, Stella gathered up some of the dirty dishes and brought them into the kitchen. Still arguing, Sam and Dean brought the rest in and put them in the sink. By the time Stella brought the pie out to the table, they boys had come to an agreement about what to do the following day when they went to investigate the potential rugaru. And Dean had agreed to talk to this guy—if needed—before he set anything on fire.

Stella rotated her shoulder. She'd gone quite a while without her sling and she was a little sore. She didn't mention her desire to go with them on their recon run; she didn't want to get that argument started.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Well, here's the next chapter. Hope you like where the story is starting to go. Just to refresh: the whole idea of Supernatural belongs to others; I don't own any of it and this story is written just for my own enjoyment (and the enjoyment of anyone who might stumble across it on ). Stella is my own creation, though, and my contribution to the expanding realm of Supernatural.

Thank you to everyone who is reading the story, especially those who are repeat readers. And welcome to any new readers I have picked up along the way. I appreciate you taking the time to read my story and I'd love to get your feedback if you are so inclined…


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The next morning, Stella made sure she sent the photos she took to Sam's phone and did a second description of Roast Beef Guy and his green pick-up truck. The boys were just going to have to do some straight-up observation. They were too well known in town to come up with a cover like working for the EPA or FBI. They spent the day going to some stores, browsing, doing a little shopping. On more than one occasion Dean commented on how he felt like a dork as they lingered in different stores. They strolled down Main Street after checking out a green truck which turned out to be the wrong one. Dean stopped in front of one store.

"I'm going in here." He disappeared inside.

Sam followed him in. "Dude, seriously? We don't really have time for this."

"There is always time for this, Sam. Always." Dean turned and smiled expansively at his brother. He was surrounded by racks of bras and teddies and other assorted pieces of lacy lingerie. Twenty minutes later, Dean paid for his purchase and walked out of the shop carrying a pink-and-black shopping bag. Sam kept his distance.

"What, do I have Cooties or something?"

"Seriously, Dean? Two dudes walking together down the street and one of them has a bag from the local lingerie shop? I'll pass on everyone on the street speculating about our sexual orientation."

"A guy can't buy a little gift for his woman? And I thought you were the modern man, Sammy."

"Like that gift is actually for Stella; 'fess up Dean, it is really for you."

"I'm not saying I won't get any enjoyment out of it. What's so wrong with that?" Dean tossed the bag into the Impala's back seat as he got in. He was still grinning; it was going to be a good night. A good, good night.

"Where to now?" asked Sam. "I think we're all shopped out."

"I don't know about you but I'm starving. Let's go to that burger place a couple blocks down," suggested Dean.

"Works for me." Sam was hungry, too.

The diner was one of those places that tried a little too hard to feel authentic and vintage. The images were all correct, but the feel was just a little too new, too modern. There were booths and tables, but also a long counter where patrons could sit on 1950s-style soda-counter stools to eat their meal. But a decent burger was a decent burger, and Sam and Dean were there for the meal not for the ambiance. They settled into a booth and perused the menu. The waitress brought some water and asked them what they wanted. Her tag said her name was Gail

"I'll have the white chicken chili," said Sam. "And a salad. Italian dressing."

"Gail, I'm gonna try the bacon cheeseburger," said Dean. "Medium. Fries… and I'll leave the salad to my health-conscious brother here."

"Cheddar, Swiss, or American on the burger?"

"Surprise me," said Dean with a charming smile. The waitress, who was probably in her early 60s smiled patiently at him like an aunt tolerating a prank from a youngster.

"Your lunch will be out shortly," she said. "If you need anything else, let me know."

Sam's salad came out first and while he ate, Dean flipped through the pages of a "Welcome to Steamboat" magazine that some tourist had left on the seat. Sam swirled a piece of cucumber in the dressing before he ate it, and let his eyes wander along the counter and over the backs of the people sitting there, observing without really looking. Then he stopped and his eyes went back to one particular person.

The counter waitress was looking at the man strangely, her pen poised just above her order pad. "I'm sorry," she said. "How did you say you wanted your cheeseburger cooked?"

"Extremely rare," he answered. "Extra rare. Whatever you call it. Just have the cook sear the outside and bring it to me like that."

"But sir, that would mean the burger would really be… practically raw."

"I realize that." He sounded annoyed. "And that's exactly the way I want the meat. Practically raw."

She wrote down the order. "Whatever you want, sir."

He wanted his cheeseburger practically raw? Sam used his foot to nudge Dean under the table. At first, Dean ignored him, thinking that Sam was just trying to pester him. Then Sam kicked him harder and gave Dean a look when his brother kicked him back, just as hard.

"What?"

"Dean, I'm not playing footsie with you. I think he's here. Isn't that the guy?"

"The one Stella saw? Where?" Dean sat up straighter but was careful not to start gawking all over the place.

"He's behind you. At the counter. About four seats from the door. He's got a polo shirt on. Yellow." Sam looked down at his phone, checking the photo Stella had sent both of them. "Sure looks like him, but his back is mostly to us. I can't quite tell."

Dean shifted in the booth, sliding over so his back was near the window and he put a leg up on the seat. The new angle gave him a good view of the diner and he casually looked in the direction that Sam had indicated while Sam pretended to be engrossed in a text message. The waitress came and put the nearly raw burger down in front of her customer. At practically the same time, Gail brought the chili and burger order for the Winchesters.

At the counter, Russell Roy savored the flavor of the burger juice as he bit into his almost completely raw lunch. The juice ran down his chin and wiped it with his fingers, sucking on each one so that not a drop went to waste. He'd been hungry for days and couldn't understand why his stomach always felt empty. He loved a good steak or cheeseburger but lately, that was all he thought about. It was almost an obsession and he didn't understand it. He took another bite of the cheeseburger and grunted with pleasure. The waitress, trying to not look disgusted, refilled his water.

"Order me another one of these, sweetheart," he said. She nodded and disappeared towards the kitchen.

Russell watched her go and his breath got quicker, harder. How he wanted to see that waitress with no clothes, to smell her skin, to bite in and taste the hot, salty… He shuddered, coming out of the fantasy abruptly. _What the hell's wrong with me?_ Russell was shocked at himself. First of all, he didn't normally fantasize about random women like that, and to think about biting her? The idea repelled and fascinated him. The waitress put the new plate down in front of him and Russell tore into that cheeseburger as if he hadn't just finished one. The bun was so soaked with juice it was soggy. Dean actually felt his gorge rise slightly as he watched Russell eat it. Dean loved a good cheeseburger but that was really repulsive. He looked at the remaining few bites of his own burger and put it back on the plate. He wasn't all that hungry any more.

"Well, it sure looks like the early stages of a rugaru transformation. He's certainly got that raw meat thing going on." Dean gestured to Gail to get the check.

"If we can scope out his truck in the parking lot we can get his license and find out where he lives. I should be able to hack my way into the local RMV; they usually don't have the best security," said Sam.

"I got an easier way to do that," said Dean. "C'mon."

Out in the parking lot, Sam stared incredulously at his brother as Dean jimmied the passenger side door of Russell Roy's truck. "Dean, it's the middle of the day and you're breaking into someone's truck."

"His address will be on his registration. It's this or you can spend the next several hours on the computer looking for him. Plus no one will notice. Let me rephrase that. No one will notice unless you stop staring at me like I have three heads… Ah." The door clicked and opened. Dean leaned in and rummaged through the glove box.

"Did you get it?" Sam was looking around, trying to watch the street for passers-by, and for the police, while also keeping an eye on the diner. He didn't think Roast Beef Man would be ready to leave the diner for a while but it wasn't a guarantee.

"Yep, here we go. Russell Roy. He lives at 75 Uncochief Street in Steamboat."

"Okay, let's get out of here, Dean. I can see in the diner and it looks like he's wrapping up. C'mon, let's go."

Back at the house, Stella was staring intently at the computer. She'd been doing her own rugaru research since the boys left. Most of what she'd found confirmed what Sam and Dean had said. Rugarus were considered a variation of a werewolf, and once a transformation was complete, it would turn into a killing machine until it was stopped. And the only way to do that, it seemed, was to incinerate the creature. She also learned that rugarus possessed a higher level of strength than average humans, something Sam and Dean either didn't know or had left out. She guessed they'd left it out.

She heard the boys coming up the deck stairs and she finished up what she was doing on the computer. Stella felt a little guilty as she logged off of the computer, like she was keeping a secret from Dean. Knowing she was doing the research would just make him worry, especially since she was feeling better and had been making a lot more noise about going out on hunts again. And she wasn't going to do anything that might deliberately distract him from a hunt.

"Hey." Stella hurried down the stairs to meet them. She gave Dean a kiss. "Did you see anything?"

"We did," answered Sam. "We saw your guy at lunch. And yea, there is something freaky going on with him."

"His name is Russell Roy. He lives here in Steamboat. He hasn't changed, but we're going to need to get to him soon." Dean looked sideways at Sam. "And I won't set him on fire. Yet."

"That's all I'm asking," said Sam. "That we try."

"When are you going to go after him?" asked Stella. She glanced at Dean. He was sort of just standing in the kitchen with his hands behind his back.

"We should probably go this evening; see if we can find him at home," said Sam. "He was gorging at lunch. He'll probably keep eating for a few more hours before he'll need to go home and rest, to digest. We can talk to him then. When he's full. At least relatively speaking."

Stella nodded. Then she turned his attention towards Dean. "So, you. What are you up to? You're clearly up to something…"

"Me? Up to something?"

Sam just kind of smiled and walked into the other room. Stella turned her head, puzzled, and watched him go. When she turned back, Dean was holding out the pink bag.

"Got a little something for you," he said with a big grin.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** A little bit of a transition chapter, I guess. Not a ton of action, but I hope the observations of the proto-rugaru work. Thank you for taking the time to read Starlight. If you're so inclined, I would love to hear what you think: What is working well, and what might not be working so well. If the feedback is constructive, it is always welcome. Hopefully, I'll have another chapter up this weekend… so stay tuned for more!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The Winchesters left later in the afternoon to find Russell Roy and try having a heart to heart. Their search, however, was fruitless. He wasn't at his house and they drove around town for several hours but saw no signs of Russell or his truck. Disgruntled, they went back to the house on Upper Huckleberry in time for a late supper. When they got there, they found Stella in the kitchen with a cookbook, and some beef stew and cornbread was waiting.

"I am really liking this Domestic Goddess side of you," said Dean as he powered through a second helping.

Stella shrugged. "Didn't think I'd enjoy cooking so much. But take it in while you can. We're running out of time here in Shangri-La."

"Running out of time?" Dean mumbled the words through a mouthful of food.

"We're already into August, Dean. Another few weeks and I'll be just fine again; healthy and ready to rock despite the fact that you're wallowing in denial. Then it will be time to get back on the road, get back to finding jobs and hunting. Plus, once we're into September here the snows will come and with the snow come the skiers, and this house is rented out from mid-September through the end of April. We are going to be homeless in a few weeks."

The three spent a quiet few hours at the house before turning in for the night. Stella had subtly waved the pink gift bag so that Dean could see it. Sam made a point of putting the radio on in his room so that he didn't hear too much of their midnight romp. In the morning, Sam and Dean headed out to search for Russell. Stella, grumpy that she couldn't go with them, at least took some satisfaction that she was able to drive the Camaro to her physical therapy session. There was minimal pain now but she still needed to be careful when she shifted gears.

The session went well and her PT trainer told her that she only needed to come one more time and she'd be officially finished with her therapy. There were a few things she wanted at the store so she drove to the market before heading back to the house. On the way she listened to a voice mail from Dean. It had come in while she was in PT. So far, they'd had no luck finding Russell but they were heading out to the town of Craig to check out a lead. As the message ended, her phone started blinking and beeping.

"Damn," she muttered. "I forgot to charge the stupid battery."

In the market, she tossed a few items in the cart and turned the corner so she could head for the bakery. Lost in thought about what she needed, she wasn't paying attention but when she looked up, Stella froze. The boys might not be having any luck finding Russell Roy; she apparently did not share that problem.

Russell was standing in front of the meat case, loading his basket with different cuts of steak. He was paler than before, definitely sweaty. Stella dropped her hand to her phone and then cursed inwardly as she remembered the battery. Russell's head snapped up and he stared at Stella. She put her weight into the cart and walked past him, pausing for a moment to look in the case and then move on. With his red-rimmed eyes on her, Stella had to resist the primitive part of her brain that was screaming for her to run, warning her of the danger.

Russell watched her walk away. _That woman. The one with the dark hair._ _She was here last time. I remember her…_

Russell licked his lips. His hunger had been increasing; he couldn't seem to get enough meat to satisfy himself. But there were other urges as well, desires that were growing more insistent, harder to quell. He wanted flesh, human flesh. The desire still disturbed him. Russell knew it was wrong but he was losing his will to oppose the urge and now he realized he didn't simply want flesh: He wanted a woman's flesh. He wanted a woman naked and sweaty beneath him while he sunk his teeth into her, listened to her scream.

_Stop! You're losing your mind, Russ. Don't think like that. You can't think like that. Buy some more steak…_

He tossed several more packages into his basket. The handle felt slippery and Russell realized that not only was he sweating profusely, he was breathing hard, as if he'd just sprinted a mile. He took another deep breath. Over the past day he'd realized that people smelled different, as if he could smell the blood coursing through them. That woman with the dark hair, her scent was like nothing he'd experienced before and he found himself wandering after through the store. He passed a man in a t-shirt and baseball hat. He smelled sour, like juice that had gone bad. The woman at the other end of the aisle had a more spicy smell, as if she would taste of chipotle peppers. Russ stopped at the end of the aisle and shut his eyes. He inhaled deeply and smiled when he caught a trace of the mystery woman.

Stella finally put the hand basket down. The man in front of her at the checkout was having a discussion with the cashier about several prices and a coupon. Stella refrained from rolling her eyes when the man asked to see the manager. She almost moved to a different line but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Russell in the other line. Not wanting to be too close to him, she stayed where she was and pretended to look through the gossip magazines. One headline claimed Justin Bieber was a midget alien. Another said Lindsay Lohan had found God and was giving up Hollywood. And the third headline screamed some nonsense about Jennifer Aniston wanting to have Adam Sandler's love child.

As the cashier finally started ringing through her items Stella covertly watched Russell walk out of the store. He didn't look at her or seem to notice her at all and she was relieved, but still wary. Part of her wanted to follow him, but she had no way to reach Dean or Sam if she got in trouble, and the Camaro wasn't exactly designed for tailing someone. No, she'd call the boys as soon as she got home and let them know.

She walked out into the parking lot and looked around as she made her way to the Camaro. Tucking the bag behind the front seat she looked around one more time. There were about three dozen cars in the lot and the only trucks there were a big red Dodge and a white Ford. No green Chevy.

She didn't notice the drab tan Honda Civic that pulled out behind her.

Russ knew he was stalking the woman in the Camaro, but he just couldn't stop. He was changing and he was becoming less terrified, less horrified by his urges. Eating the raw meat was making him stronger, smarter, and he relished that. All his life he had been average at best. Not anymore. He wanted to keep feeling this way and somewhere, deep down inside himself, he knew that more blood and more flesh – human blood and flesh – would make him even stronger.

He shifted in the car's seat. He liked the seats in his truck better; they were so much more uncomfortable. But until the truck's new battery was in, he was stuck in this little clown car. _Maybe it is just as well,_ he thought. _Who is going to notice a dull little car like this one?_

Russ took pains to stay well behind Stella's car. He followed her onto Huckleberry but was far enough back that he almost missed the blue Camaro as it turned onto Upper Huckleberry. He drove past the street where Stella had turned and continued on Huckleberry. He parked around a turn in the road so no one could see the car and started to cut through the woods. He'd be able to smell the woman if he got close.

It took nearly three hours, but he eventually found her.

Stella left the bags on the counter and grabbed a flannel shirt. The evenings were getting cool. Once she got back in the kitchen she looked around and smiled. She was going to miss cooking, and that idea amused her tremendously. If she was being truthful with herself, she was going to miss living a normal life, but she also had to admit that she was craving the open road again. As crazy as it was, she missed the hunting life even with the blood and the fear and the pain. All she got was voice mail when she called Dean, so she left a message about seeing Russell and hoped it would help them track him down.

Since she wasn't quite sure when the boys would be home, she decided to make chicken soup. Between that and some crusty bread that she'd purchased at the store, there would be plenty for Sam and Dean to eat once they got back. For the next 40 minutes, Stella chopped vegetables, simmered broth and shredded some chicken breasts. She rummaged through a couple cabinets looking for some oregano. She found the oregano – and a bottle of tequila.

Tequila. Now there was a memory…

_They'd finished up a job and ended up in Flagstaff—at a bar popular with the students of Northern Arizona University. They were close to broke and a bar full of drunken college kids seemed like an easy way to replenish their funds. Stella had come up with the plan. They all went into the bar separately and Stella went to work._

_She went by a table occupied with five guys, clearly from the university, and a couple girls they were trying to impress. She made sure to stumble slightly and bump one of them._

"_I'm so sorry! I am so clumsy." She turned on her Southern drawl. She dropped down into the one empty chair and leaned forward. Her shirt gapped slightly and the boys started to grin. "How are y'all tonight?"_

"_We're good. I'm Gary. What's your name pretty lady?" _

_She smiled at him. "Stella. Nice to meet you Gary."_

_At the bar, Dean sipped his beer and tried to ignore Gary's inept attempt to make a move on Stella. She flirted and laughed, giggled and joked and finally said, "I'll tell you what. You do some tequila shots with me. If you can do more than me, we'll go someplace quiet. But if I out drink you, then you have to kiss your friend Ricky here. On the lips. Like you mean it."_

"_I don't know…" Gary's grin was sly. "Doesn't really seem like a fair bet to me."_

_Stella giggled and put her hand on his. "What? You afraid of little old me?"_

_The ordered up some tequila shots and word quickly spread in the bar. They downed the first shot and Stella made a small demonstration about how strong the tequila tasted. Gary reminded her that a bet was a bet. They downed the second shot as Dean and Sam wormed their way into the crowd. Sam flashed a 50-dollar bill._

"_Fifty bucks says the dude wins," said Sam. The crowd laughed._

"_Hell, I like a long shot," said Dean. "I'll take your fifty and a hundred says the little Southern belle wins."_

"_Dude," said Sam. "She's half his size and she's half in the bag. You may as well just give me your money now. C'mon, who else wants to get in on the action?" He looked around at the crowd. A few people went with Dean's bet but most of the crowd was made up of young men whose half-drunk egos wouldn't allow them to think that a girl could out drink them. It wasn't long before cash was being slapped down on tables._

_Three shots._

_Four shots._

_Five shots._

_Stella was starting to wonder if this bet had been such a good idea. Across the table, Gary was starting to wonder the same thing._

_Six shots._

_The seventh shot got put on the table and Stella took a deep breath. She looked up at Gary. "I think you're trying to snooker me," she said adding a little slur to her voice. She swayed a little in her chair. Gary's buddies watched her and started cheering him on, telling him that another shot and he'd be golden. He picked up the shot glass and toasted Stella before he slammed it back. He groaned. He did not feel well._

"_Oh, shit…" Gary pushed back from the table and grabbed the bucket that one of the bar backs had left by the table just in case of a situation like this. All seven tequilas and everything else Gary had eaten that day poured into the bucket and the crowd groaned and hooted._

"_I think we have a winner," said Dean._

"_Wait a sec," croaked Gary. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand. "I got my seventh shot down before it came back up. Sweet thing here has only had six."_

_Stella just smiled at him. She was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning, but Dean was about to make a lot of money. Picking up the full shot glass in front of her she toasted him and knocked the tequila back. She turned the shot glass over and placed it on the table._

"_You boys need to pucker up."_

Even split with the others who bet on Stella, they walked away with over five hundred dollars. Dean had left shortly after in the Impala. Sam waited at least 20 minutes and when Stella went to the ladies room, he went out to the Camaro. Stella slipped from the ladies room to the back hall and out the kitchen door. If the dishwashers noticed her, they didn't acknowledge her. Probably wasn't the first time someone had skipped out on a date through the back. Sam picked her up and they headed out to meet Dean. The next day, her hangover had been nothing short of horrific. It was the last time she suggested that con.

Stella put the tequila bottle out in a conspicuous place so Dean would see it when he got home. He'd remember.

Outside in the deepening shadows, Russell watched Stella, riveted by her. He licked his lips and rubbed his hands on his pants. His palms were sweaty. Twice he started to creep forward but hesitated, not wanting to go into the pools of light closer to the windows. The rumble of a car engine drew his attention and a moment later, the Impala rolled in. Russell coiled back into the shadows but didn't leave.

Dean flipped off the Impala's lights, put it in park and shut the engine down. He sighed, frustrated. They had spent the day looking for Russell Roy with no luck. His truck was nowhere to be found and he didn't have neighbors close enough to know his typical comings and goings. They'd even driven out to the town of Craig, where they weren't as well know, and posed as Park Service representatives to investigate some cattle mutilations. He and Sam were both convinced that Russell Roy was responsible, and that was where he had disappeared to. The problem? Where was he now? And was he still human?

"If he's going after cattle, live cattle, the compulsion is getting pretty strong," said Sam.

"I don't know if we're going to catch up with him in time," answered Dean. "I've got a really bad feeling about this one."

The cool evening breeze brought their scents to Russell and he bristled. The shorter one, he smelled of leather and something else, something Russell couldn't quite identify. Then he realized what it was: it was a masculine scent, testosterone or something. But it made Dean smell extremely dangerous. The taller one? There was something odd about his scent. Also something dangerous, but not like the first man. This smell made Russell a little anxious, the only way he could describe it was that the taller man smelled dark. Either way, they were the most dangerous males Russell had encountered since starting to embrace whatever change was coursing through him.

Sam and Dean went inside the house and Russell watched as Stella came over and kissed him. He couldn't stop the reaction. He wanted that woman and his first instinct was to rip her away from the interloper. He moved abruptly, started to lunge forward. Dean's back was towards the window, but both Sam and Stella saw the movement. Outside, Russell froze, trapped in a puddle of light that spilled out one of the windows.

"He's here!" shouted Stella. "On the deck!"

"Dean," Sam hollered at the same time. "Behind you!"

"HEY! YOU!" Dean didn't hesitate. He whirled, saw Russell staring through the window, and charged out the door. Sam was right on his heels. Stella ran to the kitchen island, grabbed the sawed-off shotgun she kept in the cabinet, and sprinted after them.

As Sam and Dean thundered out the door, Russell sprinted. He raced to the deck railing and flung himself over it. He hit the ground and yelped as he twisted his ankle, but between the adrenaline in his system and his newfound strength, he charged into the woods. The Winchesters ran after him and disappeared into the dark. Even though she was only moments behind them, Stella couldn't see the boys or Russell. She forced herself to stop. Charging blindly into the dark woods when some half-changed rugaru was clearly stalking her was a bad idea and she knew it.

"Shit," she cursed. Stella backtracked to the house. She locked the door behind her and quickly went through the rest of the house, closing and locking any open windows and locking any doors that might allow access to the house. Then she went back down stairs and waited, shot gun at the ready. If Russell came back, she would either see him or she'd hear him break a window to get in. She double-checked the gun. If he did come back, she would be more than happy to put a sizeable hole in his middle. If he had completely transformed into a rugaru, the gun blast might not kill him, but it would keep him down long enough to finish the job properly.

Out in the woods, Sam and Dean stopped to listen. They couldn't hear footsteps so either the rugaru had outdistanced them or it was hiding. Dean looked behind him and could barely see the lights of the house through the trees.

"C'mon, Sam. We have to go back. Too many places it could circle back on us… or on Stella right now." Dean frowned as he looked around again.

"And we're not exactly equipped to deal with it right now," said Sam. They needed fire if they were going to put the rugaru down permanently.

Back at the house, they came up the stairs. The door was locked but Sam had his key. He put it into the door lock and heard the distinct click as it opened. He opened the door a crack.

"Stella?" he called. "Don't shoot… Just me and Dean coming in." He stood to the side and pushed the door open. Both of the boys leaned in just enough to see inside. Stella was standing about 20 feet back, shot gun leveled at them. When she saw their faces she dropped the muzzle of the gun down. The boys came in and shut the door behind them.

"We have to go, Sam," said Dean. "We need to handle this. Now." It was evident that Dean was not going to be interested in talking or reasoning with Russell once they found him. Sam nodded in agreement. Stella watched the brothers and reached for her jacket.

"No. Stay here, Stella."

She narrowed her eyes, her hand hovering above the collar of her jacket. Her head turned slowly towards Dean. "Stay? STAY? I'm not your dog, Dean… and if you even dare say the word 'bitch' to me I will get the other shotgun and fill your ass so full of rock salt you won't be able to sit down for a month."

"Do we have to do this now? That's not what I meant and you know it." Dean struggled with himself. Stella was ready to hunt again, he knew it down in his gut, but he couldn't quite let go of the protector role he'd found himself in. Not yet.

"This thing was staring at me; watching me," said Stella.

Dean took her hands in his and kissed them. "Stella, please. We startled it, so I know it won't come back here tonight… Please stay home for this one. I just… I need to take care of this. I just want to know you're safe. I know that we have to leave here soon and once that happens, our lives are going to go back to the way they were before. Hunts and blood and violence… Please just stay safe one more time for me?" Dean wasn't one to beg, but this was as close to pleading as Stella had ever heard from him.

She relented. "Fine. I'll stay. But this is the last hunt I sit out on, Dean. The last one, are we clear on that?" She poked him in the chest with a finger. "Are we?"

"We are. Thank you." He kissed her. "I love you, Stella."

"And I love you, Dean. Stay safe. You, too, Sam. I want both of you back in one piece."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Hey! I'm sorry this one took so long… life got very busy and complicated and I didn't have a ton of time to write (combined with a little bit of writer's block on this one). Hopefully I have made up for the hiatus with this slightly longer chapter. I hope you like it. Thank you again for taking the time to read my story – I'd love to get feedback from you; please consider leaving a review!


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Russ sprinted through the woods, his long, loping strides covering the ground faster than any ordinary human could. The wind whistled in his ears. He'd run for at least five minutes when he paused. He stood in the woods listening. To one side, he could hear a TV in one of the houses he'd checked earlier when he was looking for that delicious woman. He didn't hear anyone running behind him, no steps or voices in the woods.

_They can't keep up with me. Not with my new strength, but they're coming after me._ Adrenaline coursed through him again. He'd seen the look in Dean's eyes. This was going to end bloody for one of them.

He turned and sprinted again and within a few minutes had reached the road and his car. He looked behind him and laughed. It had taken hours to find the woman because he'd moved slowly, deliberately as he searched each house he found for her scent. Those idiots would stumble around in the woods for at least a half-hour before they gave up. But he knew they would eventually come to his house. And he intended to be ready for them. Russ' hand was on the car door when he stopped and looked around. He heard… something. It wasn't the two men who were chasing him. It was on the street. Out of the dark, a young man on a mountain bike pulled up.

"Dude, didja get a flat or something?" the kid asked. Along with his other senses, Russell's night vision had improved. The boy who stopped was maybe 17 or 18.

"Just finished changing it." Russell's nostrils flared, drinking in the boy's scent. "Dangerous to be biking on these roads with no headlight, kid."

"Yea, I lost track of time. You know how it is. Have a good nig…" The boy's voice turned into a frightened gurgle as Russell lunged and bit down hard on his neck. Blood ran into his mouth, hot and salty, and Russell felt his body convulse and twist. It felt like his bones were reforming, moving beneath his skin and he fully embraced the strange change. He felt complete now, but he was as hungry as ever. With little effort he tossed the kid's body into the back seat. He didn't care what blood splashed on the upholstery. He grabbed the bike and threw it into the woods. It would take a while for them to find it if anyone missed the boy. Russell wiped his face and mouth with his shirt sleeve, got into the car, and headed for home.

The Winchester boys were about 20 minutes behind. It had taken them a little time to get back to the house and gather their gear. And Dean's brief argument with Stella had slowed them down, too. They parked the Impala on the opposite end of Uncochief. This end of the street was filled with cars. Clearly someone's bar-b-q was going to last well into the night, and the Impala was much less conspicuous mixed in with all of the other vehicles. They made sure the homemade flame throwers they'd brought were well concealed under their coats and walked down the road with purpose, just like they were supposed to be there.

"What do you think they'd do if they knew?" asked Sam as a party guest walked past him towards the house carrying a six-pack of beer.

"If they knew what?"

"That a rugaru lives down the street? That all of the monsters under the bed and ghosts and ghouls are all real? If they knew what a freak show the world really is?" Sam just shook his head. The world that he, Dean and Stella lived in was so different from what everyone else experienced.

"Most of them would piss themselves," said Dean. "They wouldn't be able to handle it."

The sounds of the party and its blasting radio started to fade. They were around the street's curve and out of sight of the party when they arrived at number 75. It was an average looking house for the area—log cabin style, two floors and a wrap-around porch on the front. The house was mostly dark. One room upstairs had a light on, and a room in the back did as well. Just enough light filtered out through the front windows.

"This is the one," said Sam softly.

"Where's the damn truck?" Dean was staring at the little tan car.

"I don't know about the truck, but the registry said he lives here. And the mailbox has the name Roy on it."

"Let's get this over with," muttered Dean. "Let's deep fry this freak and get out of here."

They kept to the shadows and took care when they stepped onto the porch, trying to avoid squeaky boards that would betray them to the rugaru. Sam reached out and twisted the door knob on the front door. It turned easily and there was a small click. The brothers looked at each other and Dean nodded. Sam opened the door softly and they both glanced inside. Nothing moved but they were both apprehensive.

They took a step inside and waited for their eyes to adjust to the dim light. It would be easier to see with flashlights, but then they might lose their element of surprise. Light from the kitchen illuminated the living room enough for them to see there was no one in front of them, but there was a blind corner ahead that they couldn't see around. Sam and Dean moved slowly trying to step as quietly as possible. Dean took one more step forward into the living room and closed his eyes as his boot sank into a section of wet, squishy carpet. Sam felt the same sensation a split second later. They looked down and even in the poor light it was easy to see the dark stain spread across the carpet leading to a prone body.

_We're screwed,_ thought Dean. _He's had_ _his bite of human flesh. He's a full rugaru now._

Russ had heard them on the porch despite their efforts to be silent. Even if he hadn't, the cool night breeze carried their scents along and he knew exactly where the Winchesters were. He narrowed his eyes in the dark. He was ready for them. He fingered the lump in his pocket. He'd eaten part of the poor fool who'd had the misfortune to find him on Huckleberry Road and with human flesh and blood warming his belly, Russ felt stronger than ever. And he knew he had surprise on his side.

"Dean, look…" Sam never finished the sentence as Russell charged out of the darkness. He threw all of his body weight into Dean and the momentum carried them both into Sam. All three crashed into the opposite wall and then onto the floor. Dean kicked out, making solid contact with the rugaru but Russell hammered him with a punch to the face. It stunned Dean and he saw stars. The power behind the blow truly was supernatural.

"I know you're here to kill me," said Russell as Sam started to scramble to his feet. "And I can't let that happen." His hand came up and Sam screamed in agony as Russ unloaded a canister of pepper spray into his face. Dean, his head still spinning from the first blow, struggled to his knees when he heard Sam's cries of pain.

"Sam!"

"My eyes! Dean, my eyes are burning. I can't see…"

"You stay down!" Russell kicked Dean in the ribs and nailed him with a second punch. Dean collapsed back to the floor with a grunt while Russ grabbed Sam by the shirt and lifted him off the ground. He flung Sam down, hard and everything around Sam went dark. A short time later, it was Dean's voice that finally brought Sam back to reality.

"Dean? Dean, what the…"

"You okay Sam?"

"I can't see… everything's blurry… friggin' thing pepper sprayed me." Sam tried to move and felt a twist of fear in his gut when he realized he couldn't move. He thrashed and then stilled, realizing it would be better to conserve his energy.

"You're on a coffee table, Sam. Your arms are duct taped to the table legs. I'm in a chair. Got my arms and legs duct taped tight."

"Just like last time," grumbled Sam.

"Not exactly; if I recall, I was the one trussed up to be the rugaru buffet last time. You were locked in the closet."

"You're awake." Russell came in from the kitchen. "Sam and Dean, is it? Welcome to my home…"

Dean glared at him and thrashed again, almost tipping the chair over.

"Now, now," said Russell. "Don't knock yourself over. Your view won't be as good." Neither brother asked what Russell intended them to watch.

"You're not human anymore," spat Dean.

"No? What am I then?" Russ watched Dean carefully.

"You're a rugaru, a monster."

"A rugaru…" Russell rolled the word around in his mouth, tasting it like wine or blood.

"You changed forever when you took a bite of that poor bastard over there." Dean flipped his head towards the corpse on the floor.

"You could have stayed normal," added Sam. "If you'd just resisted the urge to eat human flesh."

"Normal? I wouldn't have been normal. You would expect me to walk around fighting the urge, like some kind of freakish alcoholic?" Russell snorted. "I was nothing before. Unremarkable. Now I am stronger, faster… I am a predator." His grin flashed, his teeth looking very white against his blood-stained face. He inhaled deeply and looked at Sam.

"Get away from me…" Sam's warning was impotent and all three of them knew it.

"I can smell blood. Every person's smells different… Your blood. It smells different, dark." He circled around the table, watching Sam, savoring his fear. All Sam could see was blurry outline. In his chair, Dean's heart was hammering in his chest. There was no way he was twisting out of the duct tape; no way he could help Sam. Russell lunged forward and tore open Sam's shirt, exposing his chest and waist.

Sam's breath was ragged and he tried to twist, to get away from the rugaru, but every time he moved excruciating pain shot through his shoulders. Russell knelt down next to Sam and inhaled again. In the next instant, Russell leaned in and sank his teeth into Sam's body, just below his ribs.

Sam screamed in agony.

Dean screamed for his brother.

Russell laughed and began to lick the blood that ran freely from the bite marks in Sam's flesh.

"Sam! SAM! You sonofabitch, I'll kill you for this…" Dean was practically snarling at the rugaru. Russell tore himself away from the blood and turned his attention to Dean.

"Time for you to be quiet."

He ripped a piece of duct tape off of the roll and grabbed Dean by the hair. Jerking Dean's head back, he plastered the tape over Dean's mouth and slapped it to make it stick. Russell went back to the table and started to bend over Sam. He ran a finger through the pooling blood and licked it off of his finger.

He smiled at Dean. "I'm going to start with your brother here. I'll drink his blood and I will eat the meat from his bones. You'll get to watch him die; you'll get to hear him die. Then? Then I'll move on to you…"

Russell yanked Sam's head to the side and bit down again, sinking his teeth into Sam's shoulder, just short of his throat. Blood spattered as the rugaru dug his teeth in and the pain and terror in Sam's voice nearly killed Dean. His brother was in agony and all he could do was watch. Russell toyed with Sam, sticking fingers into the wounds and licking the blood, starting to bite but then backing off. Finally, he looked up at Dean again. Peering over Sam's body, he grinned slyly. Dean felt sick looking at his brother's blood smeared all over Russell's face. Sam, now only semi-conscious, moaned.

"And that's just the beginning, Dean. Once I'm finished with the two of you, I have a very sweet treat in mind for my dessert. You know who I'm talking about. That woman of yours…" Russell paused, delighting in tormenting Dean. "Oh, and I won't just kill her. I'll have her first, then I'll drain her. I'll put her blood in a champagne glass and savor it as I devour her sweet flesh. Do you think she's going to call for you when I take her? Scream your name? Beg for you to come and save her? Will she cry when I tell her you're dead?"

Dean's scream of rage was muffled by the tape but his hatred and fear didn't need any translation.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Well, there's the next installment and clearly the boys are up to their eyeballs in trouble with our newly minted rugaru. I hope you've enjoyed it. Thanks for reading and—as always—I would love to get feedback from any readers willing to leave it. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up soon, so stay tuned for more!

Disclaimers: Of course, the whole concept of Supernatural and Sam and Dean Winchester were created by someone else. I'm only playing in his world for my own enjoyment—I don't get any compensation for this at all. Stella is my own creation and my contribution to the _Supernatural _universe.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Stella was pacing.

The boys had been gone for two hours. There was certainly no timetable for dispatching a rugaru, but Stella just couldn't get rid of the sick lump that had settled in her stomach. She'd been walking back and forth for a half-hour now. She stopped, looked at the clock, and absently chewed on her thumb nail. Stella had a lot of faith in her intuition. It had always served her well, and now it was telling her that Sam and Dean were in a boatload of trouble.

_Something's not right. It just isn't right. I know something's gone wrong._

Stella picked up the keys to the Camaro and stared at them. She'd promised Dean that she would stay there, stay safe. But how could she do that when she was convinced that Dean _wasn't_ safe? She put the keys down and picked them up again, and then she just screamed out in frustration.

"Screw it," she said to no one other than herself. "If Dean wants to be pissed at me, he can be pissed at me." _I would never forgive myself if something happened to him or Sam when I could have done something about it._

Stella grabbed her jacket and felt hurried down the stairs. Sliding into the driver's seat of the Camaro, she depressed the clutch and turned the key. The engine growled awake and she stomped on the gas pedal. She felt a small pain in her arm as she shifted aggressively. Stella had listened carefully when Sam and Dean had discussed Russell Roy. She knew his address and she'd Googled a map of his neighborhood one night after the boys had fallen asleep. She knew exactly where she needed to go.

Normally, Stella would have followed the same pattern as the Winchesters; she would have parked on a different street if possible so that her Camaro didn't draw a lot of attention, but her gut told her this was no time to be subtle. She pulled onto Uncochief—on the opposite end of the loop from where Sam and Dean had parked-and watched the mailboxes. When she got close to 75, she turned off her headlights and killed the engine, rolling to a silent stop not too far from the Roy house.

There were only a few lights on in Russell's house and very few streetlights on this part of Uncochief and she was grateful for that. Anything that would give her an advantage was welcome. She gently pushed the door of the Camaro shut and paused. Stella could hear music coming out of the house. She picked up her pace and approached the house. Then, a voice cried out in pain and Stella's blood ran cold.

_Sam?_ _Is that Sam screaming?_ Stella gritted her teeth and moved her hand inside her jacket. Her gun might not do much good against a rugaru, but she felt better knowing it was there. Not trusting the porch and front of the house, Stella slipped along the edge and around to the side of the house. She stepped softly through some of the landscaping and kept her back pressed against the wall. She turned and peered in through a corner of the window.

What she saw made her sick.

Sam was strapped to a table and the creature—Stella wouldn't even call him a man anymore; he was a monster—the creature dipped its head down and bit Sam. The younger Winchester brother screamed again as Russell started to shake his head a little, his teeth tearing deeper into Sam's flesh. Behind the grotesque and bloody tableau, Dean was tied to a chair with tape over his mouth. Stella could see him strain against the bonds in a vain effort to reach his brother, tears running down his cheeks.

Stella took a deep breath and stepped back. She continued around the side of the house, looking for another way in. Turning another corner, she found the back door landing. The porch light was out, but the kitchen light was bright enough to make it easier to see. A short distance away was an open shed with a lawn mower and some tools outside of it. She put a foot on the back step and stopped, looking back at the shed again.

_Daddy always said to never overlook an opportunity, even a small one._ She crept over to the shed and went inside. It was a small, and Stella came back out with a few things that might be useful in a fight. Carefully working her way up the back steps she opened the screen door just enough to test the door knob. She almost sighed in relief when it turned easily. She could still hear Sam in the other room but the kitchen radio was loud enough to drown out what little noise the door made.

_Think, Stella, think!_ All she wanted to do was charge into the other room and start shooting. But she remembered what Sam and Dean had told her: a rugaru could only be killed by burning it. She didn't know if shooting it would make any difference at all. It would make her feel a lot better, but then she'd lose her only advantage: surprise. She looked around the kitchen, trying to find something else to use. The far kitchen counter caught her eye—those bottles!

Stella had her answer, but she needed a little time.

Dean would have sold his soul a second time if he could have somehow made the rugaru leave Sam alone. His entire life Dean's father had drilled one notion into his sometimes thick skull: _take care of your brother; don't let anything happen to Sammy._ Now he was trapped, helpless, watching as this God-forsaken creature ate his brother alive. The rugaru, crouched low over Sam, flicked out his tongue and let the rivulets of blood run onto it. As each one did, he shut his eyes and savored the flavor, ignoring everything else around him. A flicker of a shadow in the kitchen door waved in Dean's peripheral vision. He kept his body still and slid his eyes to the side.

_Stella!_ Dean's eyes got huge. What was Stella doing here? She held a finger to her lips, asking him for silence and then she held up two fingers. Two minutes; she needed two minutes. She disappeared back into the kitchen and Dean immediately looked back towards Sam, and he was just in time. Russell's head came up and cocked curiously. He looked carefully at Dean who glared at him, wishing his hatred could simply burn the rugaru to a crisp where he stood. Russell raised his head slightly and sniffed the air. Was that a new scent? The air was so saturated with the distinct odor of Sam's blood he wasn't sure.

More fear clawed at Dean's heart. If the rugaru realized Stella was in the house… All he could think about was what Russell had said to him earlier: _"Do you think she's going to call for you when I take her? Scream your name? Beg for you to come and save her?"_ Dean started to scream behind his gag, and he thrashed violently in his chair. Even with the gag it was obvious what he was saying: "Take me, you freak. Take me! Leave my brother alone. Sam!" The sudden outburst distracted Russell from his mystery scent.

"You are entertaining, Dean. So eager to die for your brother. Would it be easier for him to watch you die? Maybe I should have started with you and let this one watch you turn into my chew toy. But this is too much fun…" Russell came up to Dean, so close that his fetid breath was hot in Dean's ear. The rugaru licked Dean's throat, feeling the blood pumping through the veins and arteries. It was so tempting to just sink his teeth in, to pull out that hunk of flesh and feel the blood wash over him. But then he pushed back.

"No, no it isn't your turn yet. Maybe I'll take you last. Maybe, after I'm finished with your brother here I'll go catch that woman of yours. She is yours, right? The way you acted around her… Maybe I'll bring her back here and stretch her out on that table. You'll have the best seat in the house to watch me play with her. To watch me bleed her dry…"

"That's not going to be quite as easy as you think…" said Stella from the kitchen door.

Trapped in his chair, Dean realized he felt relieved, not afraid. He looked at Stella, standing in the doorway. She looked confident, fearless… magnificent. There was no way the rugaru was going to walk out of this house alive. Dean just knew it, deep down in his gut, he knew it. Behind the tape, he smiled.

Russell smiled, too, but for very different reasons. His grin was feral; his prey had come to him. He moved forward slowly. Russell could have rushed and taken Stella by surprise but he wanted the game, he wanted to stalk her. He found the idea exciting and it was another chance for him to torture Dean. _I'll catch her and I'll drag her back in here by her hair… _

"It is so nice of you to join our party, pretty." Russell licked his lips as Stella took a few steps back, moving into the kitchen and tucking herself by the door frame. _Foolish woman,_ he thought, _go ahead and run. I can smell your fear. It will be so much more satisfying to run you down, to watch you struggle… _He took two big strides to close the distance between them but instead of running, Stella leaned back into the door opening. She leveled her handgun at Russell and he stopped.

_What is that smell? Alcohol? Gas?_

Russell hesitated for a moment as he tried to sort through the new scents but he didn't have much time to process as Stella unloaded four shots directly into his chest. He shuddered and staggered but drew himself up to his full height. Russell practically howled in delight. If he'd been human, the bullets would have killed him. But he was still standing, still breathing.

"What do you think of that, you bitch? Your gun didn't hurt me. You can't kill me…"

"That's what you think." Stella stepped fully into the doorway. In her right hand a glass bottle with a rag stuffed in the neck. The rag was on fire. She raised her arm and flung the bottle down and it smashed on the hardwood floor at Russell's feet. As the glass shattered, the gasoline Stella had poured into the nearly empty vodka bottle ballooned into a ball of flame, engulfing Russell's legs and igniting the puddle of vodka that Stella had poured onto the floor while Russell had gloated over Dean.

Russell shrieked as flames climbed up his body. Stella flung herself past him, and as she ran to Dean's side a Bowie knife with a good eight-and-a-half inch blade seemed to materialize in her hand. She slashed the duct tape around his left wrist and then his left leg. Behind her, Russell roared and started to stumble across the room towards them. The knife made short work of the rest of Dean's restraints and he launched himself out of the chair.

"Get Sam!"

Dean grabbed his mini-flame thrower from where it had fallen on the ground and by the time he got to his feet it was spouting a jet of flame. He charged directly at Russell. "Burn you sonofabitch," he shouted. "You try killing my brother? Threaten to kill my girl? Go to Hell and rot there…"

Russell's screams reached a new pitch as the flames seared his face and upper body. His hair started to burn and he clawed at his face as he stumbled back. His exposed skin started to blacken and blister. The room filled with the scent of burning flesh. As Russell thrashed, the furniture and the carpet started to catch fire. He took another step towards Sam and Dean before he collapsed onto the floor.

"Dean! Help me with Sam."

Even in Sam's weakened condition, he struggled to get to his feet, but he was too injured to move quickly. Stella took the flame thrower from Dean while he propped up his brother and headed towards the door. Reigniting the weapon, Stella started to set more of the house on fire; the more that burned the less evidence there would be that she and the Winchester brothers had been there. When they got home, they were going to have to burn their clothes and their shoes.

"Stella, c'mon Stella… we've gotta get out of here now!" Dean shouted for her from the front porch. Smoke was rapidly filling the house as Stella made sure more curtains were on fire. She flung her arm over her face as she ran through the flaming living room and out onto the porch. As Dean half carried, half dragged Sam towards the car, Stella ran pas them to the Camaro. She grabbed her emergency tarp and threw it over the front passenger seat. There was no way they were going to be able to shove him into the back. She jumped in the driver's seat and pulled the car forward.

"C'mon, get him in here." Stella looked behind Dean. The fire in the house was clearly spreading. She had emptied both of the bottles of rum she'd found in the kitchen on the floor. Eventually the flames would reach the gas stove. It had been too risky to disconnect the gas line while Sam and Dean were still tied up… but she'd left the red gas canister from the shed on the kitchen floor. When that went up, it may well cause a chain reaction that would take the rest of the house with it.

Dean clicked the seatbelt to secure Sam in place. He ran around the front of the car and squeezed into the back seat. Stella kept the lights off and headed down the street. A few hundred yards away from the Impala, she slowed and let Dean jump out. She flipped on the headlights and slowly drove out of Uncochief as if nothing unusual had happened. Dean grabbed an empty beer bottle from the side of the road and strolled to the Impala. A couple party-goers passed him on the sidewalk and he raised his bottle in a greeting and they walked by, singing some ridiculous song, without a second look. Once he got to the car, Dean didn't waste any time getting the hell out of there.

Stella pulled onto the main street and reached over with her hand. She gently shook Sam. "You still with me, Sammy? You doing okay?"

Sam groaned. "Been better but I sure was glad to see you, Stella."

"Okay, you stay quiet. We'll be back at the house soon Dean and I will patch you up. We can't take you to a hospital…"

"I know." Sam's voice was a whisper. "Too many questions about who bit me. You've patched me up before, I trust you guys."

Stella smiled and gently squeezed Sam's shoulder. She looked in her rear view mirror, wishing that she could see the Impala behind her, but she knew that Dean would take the long way back to the house so that the cars weren't seen together.

In the distance, she could hear sirens.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Well, I hope this was a satisfactory conclusion to Sam and Dean's little mess and that you enjoyed it. Thanks to everyone who has been reading this story, and welcome to the new readers who have joined us. Thank you for taking the time to read my little Supernatural adventure – I know you have a lot of different stories to pick from. I appreciate that you are taking your time to read my work.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Stella kept talking to Sam on the drive home. It was gentle, innocuous conversation—just enough so she knew he hadn't passed out or gone into shock. Once she turned off the car, she came over and opened the passenger door.

"Okay, Sam, lean on me while you get out…" Sam managed to drag himself out of the car with some help from Stella. He took a few steps and stopped while his head swam. Stella steadied him and waited for Sam to indicate he was okay.

"Can you stand for a second?" she asked. Sam let go of her shoulder and nodded. He was okay for now but he still felt light-headed. He wasn't sure how much blood he'd lost during the rugaru attack but it was enough to make him feel pretty darn weak. Stella pulled the tarp out of the car and spread it on the ground. She bent down and unlaced Sam's boots.

"Can you kick the boots off? Here hold my arms." It took a minute but Sam managed to get them off. Stella kicked hers off as well and they both stepped off the tarp. His ripped and blood-sodden shirt was still hanging open. Stella steadied him as she walked around. Gently pulling the shoulders of the shirt, she peeled it down off of Sam's arms, trying not to scrape against any of his injuries. She dropped the shirt onto the tarp as well.

"Take a couple steps to the stairs?"

She tucked herself under Sam's arm and let him lean on her. They took one step at a time and Sam had to rest when he got to the stairs. He was dizzy. Stella waited until he seemed to catch his breath and then they started the long trek up the deck stairs. Sam could only manage about three steps at a time before he needed to rest. Finally they got inside the house, but even then it was a long, slow journey to the downstairs bathroom. Sam braced himself inside the shower while Stella grabbed the little teak stool that normally stood right outside as a place to put a towel so it wasn't on the floor.

"I need to get the first aid stuff. Can you get the jeans off, or do you need help?"

"Go." Sam waved her away.

By the time Stella came back into the bathroom, Sam, dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts, was sitting on the stool with his back leaning on the wall. There were five very distinct bites on his upper body and the bruises on his face were starting to color. She put down a box of sterile pads and some saline solution. Sam didn't say anything but looked up at her with sad, pain-filled, exhausted eyes. Sam was like a brother to her and she loved him; Stella hated seeing him suffer like this.

"You ready?" Stella held up the bottle of saline and some cotton pads.

"Yea."

"I don't have enough saline for everything, so bottled water will have to do after that. This is going to hurt…" She felt terrible, knowing she was going to inflict more pain on Sam tonight.

"It will hurt less than what the rugaru was doing…" He managed a wan smile.

"Hang on a sec. I'll be right back." Stella got up and disappeared out into the kitchen. She came back a minute later and handed Sam the bottle of tequila that she'd left out earlier. He put the bottle to his lips and took a swig, then another.

"That's disgusting," he said. Tequila had never been a favorite of Sam's.

"Have another," said Stella. "I think you're going to need it." She got into the shower with him and started at the neck wound. She poured some saline solution into it and began to scrub the wound out. Sam groaned; the scrubbing hurt like hell, but it was important that she get any bacteria out so nothing got infected. From the neck, she moved onto a bite directly on Sam's ribs. This one was shallower and easier to clean. But when she got to one of the bites below the ribs, she ran out of saline and had to move to bottled water. It stung more; Sam sucked in his breath and after his vision cleared, he took another drink out of the tequila bottle.

"Stella?" Out in the kitchen, Dean called for her as he came in the door. Stella's shoulders relaxed slightly when she heard his deep voice.

"I'm in the bathroom with Sam," she called back. When Dean came in the bathroom, he just shook his head: his lover was in a shower with his mostly-naked brother. _We do lead freakish lives,_ thought Dean. He came closer and whistled. Sam looked like hell, but he raised the tequila bottle at Dean.

"Stuff's not too bad after the first five swallows…" he said. Stella paused long enough to take the bottle away from Sam. He only needed enough alcohol to numb the pain. She didn't need him passing out in the shower.

"What can I do?" asked Dean.

"I've got this under control for now, but I'll need help getting Sam up to bed. We're going to need to check on him tonight; it will be easier if we're all upstairs," said Stella. "His shirt and our boots are on a tarp in the driveway. We're going to need to burn those just in case the police come around. Your boots, too. You want to start taking care of that?"

Dean nodded. There was an outdoor fire pit behind the house. He filled that with wood, soaked the shoes, shirt and tarp with some lighter fluid and set them ablaze. Dean stood a few feet back and stared into the flames. He remembered one time, when he and Sam had saved their father from some demons, when a demon had gotten the better of Sam. Sam had been flat on his back in the road with the demon punching him over and over in the face. Dean had known that it had been intent on killing Sam. Dean hadn't hesitated; he'd used the Colt and put a bullet through the demon's head to save his brother.

Even though he'd known there was an innocent man trapped in that body along with the demon, Dean hadn't even blinked when he pulled the trigger. It was that day that he'd first really, truly understood how far he would go, what he would do, for Sam and it had scared him a little. He thought about the look on Stella's face when she confronted the rugaru. He'd learned two things tonight: he would go just as far for Stella, and she wouldn't hesitate to do the same for him. When Dean came out of his thoughts, he took the screened dome for the fire pit and put it over the top to keep any sparks contained, and then he headed back inside. Stella had just finished cleaning Sam's wounds. She was rummaging in the first aid kit for ointment when Dean poked his head into the bathroom, and she gave him an appraising once-over.

"I've still got to bandage Sam up. You're going to need stitches in that cut on your head. Why don't you go upstairs and shower. By the time you're done, I'll have Sam wrapped up. You can get him to bed and then I'll stitch your head."

It took Stella another 20 minutes to slather all of Sam's wounds with antibacterial ointment and then cover them all with clean gauze. There was enough in the kit that she'd be able to change all of the dressings at least once, but they were going to need to restock in the morning. Dean, his hair still wet from the shower, came down dressed in a pair of old sweatpants. Russell had kicked him in the ribs at least once and the bruise was starting to come to the surface. Stella could also see the bruises on his face where Dean had been punched. Between the two of them, they got Sam upstairs fairly quickly and helped him into his bed. Sam murmured a thank you and something else they couldn't understand before his eyes shut.

"Your turn," Stella said to Dean. She pointed to the bathroom and Dean sat on the edge of the tub where he could angle his head into the good light. Stella examined the cut. Dean had done a good job cleaning it out in the shower but she gave it a wash with some bottled water anyway and patted it dry. She sterilized the sewing needle in some rubbing alcohol. Dean winced as she started to stitch the wound.

"His dressings will need to get changed every 12 hours," said Stella as she tugged the thread a little tighter.

"He's going to get some good scars out of this one," Dean replied.

She nodded. Bites—animal or human—had a higher chance of infection so it wasn't a good idea to stitch them up like she had with the cut on Dean's head. "And we're going to have to really keep an eye on them for infection. Probably couldn't hurt to get our hands on some general antibiotics."

"I'll call Bobby in the morning. He's probably got some connection who can call in a prescription for us without making anyone too suspicious."

"Okay, that sounds good." She sighed. She knotted the final stitch. "There you go. That should heal nicely."

"Thanks, Stella. I'll go check on the fire pit and lock up," said Dean. "Then I'll check on Sam." Stella nodded and started to turn away until Dean caught her hand. He leaned in and kissed her.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

"Thanks for coming to get us, Stella. I know I wanted you to stay here but if you hadn't come…" Dean didn't want to think of the alternative outcome.

"Anytime." She squeezed his hand and smiled. "Now, since I'm the only one left with rugaru stench on me, I'm going to go shower and get clean." Her fingers dragged slowly away from Dean's as she disappeared into the bathroom. Stella stripped all of her clothes off and put them in a paper bag that was waiting on the counter. She hated to burn them; she liked that shirt. But it was possible that blood or spit or something from Russell's had gotten on her. Those would get burned in the morning. It would take the police at least 24 hours to process what they found at the Roy house. With any luck they'd pay more attention to the corpse with Russell's teeth marks in it than anything else.

When the water was good and hot she stepped in and pulled the curtain shut. Stella stood for a moment, letting the water spray on her face and body. Then she squirted some shampoo into her palm and started to lather her hair. She rinsed and washed it a second time. Then she went for the body wash and the loofa scrubber, and she went over every inch of her body, soaping and scrubbing, making sure she washed every last trace of dirt, blood, and sweat off of her. The air felt chilly when she finally stepped out onto the bath mat and dried herself off.

Dean had checked the fire pit when Stella was in the shower. Sam's boots and shirt were little more than ash. The canvas tarp was mostly incinerated as well. Dean used an iron poker to mix everything up and then shoveled the ashes into a small metal trash can they used when the fire pit got cleaned. Inside, he locked the door behind him and turned off the downstairs lights. As he climbed the stairs to the second floor, Dean could hear the shower still running. He went to Sam's room and turned on the small table light. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he shook his brother.

"Sammy? Sam, wake up for a minute."

"Wha…? Dean? What's wrong?" Sam's voice was groggy and soft. He tried to sit up.

"No, don't sit up," said Dean. "You know the drill. Gotta wake you up every couple hours, make sure you're okay. Go back to sleep."

Sam grunted something intelligible as his head sank down onto the pillow. Dean laughed softly and headed to his own bed. As much as he hated to do it, he set the alarm clock for two hours from now. That would be about 2:00 AM. He managed to bump his stitches as he took his shirt off and cursed. He left the light on for Stella and climbed into bed. The shower stopped and a few minutes later, Stella padded softly into the room. She was wearing a long t-shirt that barely covered her bottom. Any other day, she'd have put on sweat pants or something to walk down the hall, but she knew Sam was down for the count and even if he wasn't, after the night they'd all had, she didn't really care.

"You still awake?" The question was soft, just in case Dean had fallen asleep.

"Yea, the adrenaline hasn't quit yet, but I'm gonna crash hard when it does."

"Sam doing okay?"

Dean nodded. "I woke him up and he wasn't too happy about it. I set the alarm for two hours so I can check him again."

Stella turned out the light and felt her way to the edge of the bed in the dark as her eyes adjusted to the moonlight filtering through the room's skylight. She pulled back the covers and slid into bed, moving over so she was right next to Dean. He wrapped her up in his arms and Stella rested her head on his shoulder. They lay in the dark, in silence and then Stella gently ran her fingers up Dean's arm and rested them on his cheek. She turned slightly and kissed his cheeks, then his lips. Stella pulled her shirt up and over her head, and Dean sighed when he felt her warm skin against him. Pulling her closer, he ran his hands lightly over her body, wanting her more with every moment that passed.

They often made love after a hunt. There was something about the act itself that put some distance between them and the violence, an act of love and desire that cleansed away any evil taint that they'd experienced. Dean moved over Stella and she shifted to welcome him, allowing their bodies to connect more intimately. Running his left hand from her shoulder, along her arm and to her hand, their fingers entwined. Stella reached for him with her other hand and tangled her fingers with his. Dean's breathing grew deeper as he moved, finding a rhythm that matched Stella's. He kept his face close to hers, alternately kissing her and whispering in her ear. For all of the times when their play was loud and boisterous, they both treasured these times when the act was soft and gentle, when the closeness and intimacy spoke volumes in silence and whispers.

Dean kissed her, allowing his lips to linger on Stella's and the way she looked at him when he gazed down at her left him breathless. He couldn't imagine anything he wanted more, loved more, than Stella Bodine. Dean's desires grew more urgent, more ardent as his body tightened.

"Stella…" It was a heated, whispered breath in her ear.

She gripped his hands harder. "I'm right with you, baby. I'm not going anywhere…"

Dean wanted to shout out but he kept his voice quiet. "Stella…" His breath caught.

"I've got you," she whispered in his ear. "You can let go, I've got you." As she spoke, Dean's whole body moved forward and Stella arched beneath him, sharing the sensation, loving how it felt to be so close to him. She closed her eyes and gasped while Dean buried his face between her shoulder and neck as he pressed forward again and again. They lay tangled together, continuing to kiss, long after they were spent.

When the alarm finally went off, Stella left Dean to sleep and went to check on Sam herself.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It ended up going in a different direction from what I had been thinking, but sometimes you just can't argue when you get the spark of an idea. Thanks to all of my regular readers and reviewers, and welcome to the readers who have just recently joined us. I appreciate that all of you have taken the time to read "Starlight Starbright." I've got a busy week coming up and a weekend trip away, so I may not have the chance to do a new chapter until next week! But there is still more to come, I promise!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Dean jerked awake and sat up in the bed. It was bright. Too bright. What time was it? Then he remembered that Stella had offered to do the 4:00 AM check on Sam and he was going to take the six o'clock. But it was later than that. He grabbed the alarm clock. It said 10:15 AM. He rolled out of bed and grabbed the sweat pants that were crumpled on the floor. Throwing a flannel shirt on, he didn't bother to button it while he headed down the stairs.

"Morning sunshine." Stella smiled at him.

"You let me sleep…"

"You needed the rest. I can nap this afternoon." She was padding around the kitchen in pajama bottoms and a flannel shirt of her own, her hair pulled back in a messy pony tail to keep it out of her face.

"Where's Sam? How's he doing?"

"Ask him yourself. He's on the sofa. I think he dozed off again, but I need to change bandages so he needs to wake up and get his ass into the shower again."

"Okay. Let me call Bobby first so we can figure out how to get Sam some antibiotics. I don't want to wait any longer on that," said Dean. He rummaged through the pocket of his coat and found his cell. He pressed the speed dial for Bobby and sat down at the kitchen island. The phone rang two times, three times and Dean thought it was going to voice mail when he heard Bobby's gravelly voice on the other end of the call.

"Hey Bobby. How are you? We've been… good. Need you to do me a favor. Can you call a prescription for antibiotics for Sam? Got any connections that can do that? He got bit. Yes, bitten. By a rugaru…" Dean pulled the cell away from his ear. Stella couldn't hear exactly what Bobby was saying but based on the volume, he certainly was letting Dean have it with gusto.

Dean started to smile. "Settle down, Sparky…" he called to the phone.

This time, Stella heard Bobby's voice quite clearly: "DON'T YOU GET SMART WITH ME, BOY!" She gestured for Dean to give her the phone. She waited for Bobby to take a breath before she spoke.

"Bobby? It's Stella. Everyone's fine. We found a rugaru here in town. Sam and Dean got in a pinch, and Sam got a little roughed up, but he'll live. What? Me? I'm fine. I just bailed their sorry asses out…" She glanced at Dean when she said it. He rolled his eyes and walked away; Bobby was never going to let him hear the end of this. But before he got far, the end of Stella's phone conversation stopped him. He looked back over his shoulder.

"No, Bobby. You don't need to do that. Really. No. Bobby… Okay. Okay. You don't have to shout. Apparently someone had his Cheerios pissed in this morning…" She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. "Cranky pants hung up on me."

"What's going on?" Dean took the phone back from Stella.

"Bobby said he can get the 'script for Sam. It will be at the pharmacy within the hour. He's on his way here."

"What?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

"He said it is only a ten hour drive. You know what he's like." She shrugged. When Bobby got an idea in his head, it wasn't easy to dissuade him. Stubbornness was a trait that ran strong in most of the hunters she knew, herself included.

They both went and got Sam up and helped him into the bathroom. He sat on the stool and smiled at the two of them. Sam still looked tired but he didn't have that vacant, pain-filled look today, and Stella was relieved. She peeled the bandages away revealing the angry, torn flesh on his body. So far, everything looked okay but he was a long way from being healed.

"I'm going to have to scrub them again, Sam. Probably going to have to keep doing that for a few more days. Sorry, man."

"S'okay," he said. "You've got to do it."

"You want a drink? There's still some tequila," said Dean.

"No, let's try it without." Sam shuddered. His stomach had let him know all morning that it wasn't happy with the tequila from the night before. He hadn't been sick, but the threat had been there for several hours.

"Bobby's calling in some antibiotics for you," continued Dean.

"Seriously? How's he managing that?"

Dean shook his head. "I didn't ask. I'm not sure I want to know. Actually, while you're getting your spa treatment here, why don't I head out to the pharmacy? I can get the pills and the list of stuff Stella pulled together for you."

"Not yet," said Stella.

"Okay…" There was curiosity in Dean's voice.

Stella dropped the bloody bandages into the paper bag by the edge of the shower. "This needs to get burned. So does the bag upstairs that has my clothes in it. And then, when I'm done here, you need to change your brother."

That got the attention of both Winchesters. "Change him?" asked Dean.

"Sam's wearing the same skivvies he had on yesterday. Given the blood and the sweat, I think they're pretty nasty. And they're going to get nastier during this cleaning. I figured he's your little brother, you get the honor of helping to change his underwear, not me."

Sam waved an arm weakly. "No, I can do it myself, just get me a clean pair."

"You can't even stand up by yourself…" said Stella.

"I'll work it out…" Sam shook his head slowly. No way in hell was Dean changing his boxers. He'd go naked first. Dean was thinking pretty much the exact same thing.

"The two of you can sort it out after. Dean, would you at least bring him a fresh pair down when you get the other bag?"

Dean got the fire good and hot to incinerate anything else that might connect them to Russell Roy while Stella scrubbed Sam's wounds out. Sam gritted his teeth during the process but managed to get through without any alcohol. When Dean came back with a set of boxers for him, Sam was stubbornly making a valiant effort to pat himself dry with a towel. Stella was on her way out of the room.

"Have fun," she said.

When Sam saw Dean he pointed at his brother, warning him to stay where he was. "Just give them to me and then get out. I don't care if takes an hour, I can change my own shorts."

"Fine. Whatever. I'll be outside." Dean shut the door behind him and leaned on the wall in case Sam did need some help. It took him 15 minutes, but Sam managed all on his own. The effort exhausted him and he didn't object to Dean helping him back to the living room. With Sam safely ensconced on the sofa with some water and the TV remote, Dean turned his attention to Stella who was wiping up something that had spilled on the counter. She looked tired, but Dean was hardly surprised by that. She'd only had a few hours of sleep. He went into the kitchen and came up behind Stella, sliding his arms around her waist. Dean rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Hey beautiful."

She laughed softly. "I'm glad you think so. I'm not feeling very beautiful right now."

"You're always beautiful, but I think it is time for you to get some sleep. Why don't you go lie down for a little bit while I go on the pharmacy run? I won't be gone long and Sam will be fine."

Stella nodded. She was exhausted. "Okay."

Dean was gone for about two hours. He went to the pharmacy and the prescription was waiting for him, phoned in by a Doctor Singerly. He also stopped by the coffee shop and lingered over a cup of joe and a muffin, listening to the conversation and gossip around him. The weather had warmed by the time he came out, and Dean drove back to the house with the window down and the radio up.

"Sammy?" Dean shook his brother's foot. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty."

"What? Dean?" Sam looked around, confused, until he reoriented to where he was. He struggled to sit up, the pain warring with the bout of dizziness that swamped him. Even sitting up was an effort.

"Here." Dean handed him some pills and a bag of crackers. "Eat something before you take these. I'm guessing you don't want to puke."

"Oh, hell no." Sam took the pills in his hand and only swallowed them after downing a couple handfuls of crackers and some water. He glanced at the TV and his eyebrows furrowed. There had been some old repeat on when he fell asleep. Now it was Judge Somebody-or-Other. Dean left Sam to his mind-numbing daytime television selection (which Sam promptly changed to ESPN simply on principle), and went upstairs.

Stella was lying on the bed, sound asleep, when Dean came in. She must have showered. Her hair looked damp and she was wearing cotton sleep pants and a long-sleeve waffle top. Dean quietly took off his coat and his boots and sat down on the floor with his back against the wall. Stella's breathing stayed steady and deep; he didn't want to wake her so he just sat on the floor and watched her. Stella shifted in her sleep and sighed, a small smile crossing her face for a moment.

_I wonder what she's dreaming about_. Dean smiled.

Stella shifted again slightly and she pulled her hand up close to her face. Dean looked at her ring and thought back to that day on the deck. _She deserves a normal life. The chance to have a husband and a family. But how can I give her normal when I'm… me… Sure as shit, I'm not normal._ Despite his thoughts, Dean knew Stella didn't care about whether or not he was normal; she loved him exactly the way he was. Demons, angels, vampires, ghosts and all. No, Dean Winchester still wasn't ready to walk down the aisle, but maybe, just maybe there was an alternative. The idea made him smile. Now he had a plan.

Dean let Stella sleep until dinner. He sat down on the bed and ran his hand down Stella's hair. She turned and stretched, and Dean couldn't help but watch the fabric of her shirt as it moved and shifted over her. He gave his head a little shake and when he looked back, Stella's eyes were open and she was staring at him.

"Enjoying the view?" There was laughter in her voice.

"You're just too sexy, baby. You bring it out in me every time." He gave her a gentle pat on her bottom.

She inhaled. "Do I smell pizza?"

"You do. A pizza and beer buffet for dinner."

"You rock, Dean. I'm starving."

"Then come and get it." He stood up but before Dean could move away from the bed, Stella grabbed his jean pocket.

"Oh, I'll come and get it alright." Her laugh was low. "But not until a little later."

Dean licked his lips and smiled at that thought. At this rate the pizza was going to burn and set fire to the house. But Stella let go, rolled to the other side of the bed, and pulled on her favorite pair of wool socks that doubled as slippers. Dessert was going to have to wait until a little later.

Downstairs, Dean had put several beers into a bucket of ice and brought them into the living room; Stella brought plates and napkins. Dean went back and forth to the oven a couple times and brought three different pizzas in: a meat-lovers, pepper and onion, and just a plain cheese.

"I spent a little time hanging out in town," said Dean while they ate. "Word is definitely out about what happened at the Roy house."

Stella put her beer down. "What are they saying?"

"Right now they're talking about how Russell's place went up in flames and that he was drunk and died in the fire," replied Dean. "They're also talking about how Ricky Santiago's body was found there. Seventeen year old kid… that must have been the body Sam and I saw… But even money is saying that Russell killed him and then set fire to his house by accident while he was drinking."

"That's good. Hopefully they'll stay with that line of thinking. But if not, we were here together, right? And Sam's got a case of food poisoning." Stella looked at the two boys. It was important to have their stories straight, just in case. Sam and Dean both voiced their agreement through mouths full of pizza.

Bobby arrived around midnight.

Stella and Dean had helped Sam up to the bedroom a few hours earlier and were curled up on the sofa munching popcorn and watching an action movie. They could hear his old pick-up truck before they saw it. It sounded like it was going to need a new muffler soon. Stella gave him a hug when he came in; it was good to see Bobby again. She hadn't since her stay in the hospital earlier in the summer. They gave him an overview of what had happened with the rugaru, from Stella's first question to Sam getting pepper-sprayed to the Molotov cocktail that Stella had used to start burning the creature. Dean showed Bobby to the empty guest room and then both he and Stella went to bed.

The next day, Bobby spent a little time with all of them. It had only been a few days since the attack, and Sam would nod off during conversations but they knew that would change. His appetite was good and each time his dressings got changed, the wounds looked better. Stella finally excused herself, giving the three men time to catch up. This was a good chance for her to do a little work on the Camaro before they got on the road. By the time Bobby and Dean came outside, she had the car up on ramps and was getting ready to change the oil.

"My God, it doesn't get much hotter than that," sassed Dean. "A woman who can do her own car maintenance."

"Yea, whatever. Get over yourself, Winchester. Where are you guys headed?"

"We're going to run into town and get Bobby a new muffler. The one on the truck started giving up the ghost on the way here," said Dean. "Sam fell asleep, so he's on the sofa."

"Well, the two of you can probably grab a sandwich and a beer while you're there." Stella wiped her hands on a rag. Dean noticed she wasn't wearing her silver ring and then remembered that Stella always took it off when she worked on the car so it wouldn't get scratched or greasy.

Suddenly, Dean started to pat the pockets of his coat. "Damn. Left my wallet inside. I'll be right back, Bobby."

Before Bobby could object, Dean was already headed back to the house. He took the stairs two at a time and hustled up to the bedroom. He didn't need his wallet; he already had that. Stella's ring was sitting on top of the dresser. He scooped it up and looked at it. Then Dean closed his fist around the ring, dropped it in his pocket, and went back outside.

Stella was under the Camaro, tinkering, when they left.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Hope you have enjoyed the latest installment. As always, thank you for taking the time to read my Supernatural fic. Readership and reviews are always welcome and appreciated.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

About four days later, Stella and the Winchesters were just about packed and ready to go. They really didn't have that much to take, just what would fit in bags. The boys made a couple trips to Mason's to stock up on ammo and other supplies they'd need. They also stocked up on rock salt, an item that was starting to be seen in stores. Winter came early in the mountains. Stella tossed some of their rattier clothes and bought some new ones: jeans, sturdy t-shirts and flannel button downs for the boys—the Winchester family uniform.

She treated herself to some new jeans as well, but throughout it all, she stayed quiet and mostly kept to herself. Sam, Dean and Bobby all kept an eye on her, slightly unsettled by her silence, but they chalked it up to Stella simply thinking about getting back on the road after everything that had happened this summer. Finally, the day before they were supposed to leave, Stella came stomping down the stairs, clearly in a temper, her arms full of shirts.

She dropped the dirty shirts in front of Dean; they were old ones of his that he'd had stashed in the Impala's trunk. He'd left them on the bed to get washed. Stella glared.

"I'm not your maid," she barked. With that, she turned and stormed up the stairs.

"I don't know what you did," said Sam, "but you'd better figure it out. Stella's usually not so, uh… so…"

"Bitchy?" asked Bobby. "That seems like the right word."

"Thanks for the sensitivity there, Bobby," grumbled Dean. But they were right. Stella had been in a foul mood for the past four days. And her temper was getting increasingly worse. They were going to leave the next day and Dean was pretty sure he and Sam would be driving together; Stella didn't seem to want any company.

"Well? Are you going to go talk to her?" Sam raised his eye brows.

"Me?" asked Dean. "Do I look like I have a death wish?"

Sam started to laugh and just walked away. Dean stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up. Stella had disappeared into their bedroom and, so far, hadn't come back out. Clearly he was going to have to go up and into the dragon's lair. He paused at the door to the bedroom before he went in. He took a deep breath.

"Stella? Hey…"

Stella looked up at him as he came in the room, and Dean stopped in his tracks. The expression on her tear-stained face could only be called 'crushed.' Dean was floored. He'd been expecting a lioness with her claws bared; instead, he found Stella in tears.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

A big tear welled up and spilled over. "I lost it. Dean, I lost your ring."

"You lost…" His mouth started to sag open.

"Your silver ring. I took it off when I worked on the Camaro. I know I put it on the dresser… I thought I put it on the dresser. But now I can't find it. I've looked everywhere…" Miserable, she looked down at her hands.

"Stella…"

"I didn't want to tell you. It was the only piece of you I had after… after you died… You trusted me to keep it when Castiel pulled you out of Hell and brought you back. How could I be so careless with something so important?"

She looked so sad. Dean felt horrible knowing it was his fault she was so upset. He had no idea that the ring meant so much to her. Sitting next to her on the bed, he put his arm around Stella and pulled her close. "Don't cry. You didn't lose it."

"I did lose it, Dean…"

"No, you didn't. It isn't lost. I have it."

Her eyes lit up. "You have it? You found it? Where was it?" She sighed and her shoulders sagged, relief washing over her. Dean didn't answer Stella. Instead, he pulled the ring out of his pocket and held it in his palm. Stella started to reach for it, but Dean moved his hand away so she couldn't take it from him. Not yet.

"I was looking at it the other day," said Dean. "While you were sleeping. And I just started thinking. I know we've talked about it before but whenever I see it, I can't help but wonder. Do you resent me for not marrying you…?"

Stella stared at him, shocked, but Dean didn't notice. He was too wrapped up in his own head right then and he just kept talking.

"… Do you resent our jobs for not giving us a normal life? Because that's what getting married means to me, Stella. A normal life. A home in the same town, the same school for kids. Homework and proms and driver's ed. Getting married means a family and I understand now why my mother wanted out, why she thought the worst thing would be for me and Sam to live this life… That's why I can't. I just can't…" His eyes were a little shiny when he looked at Stella, as if he expected her to just get up and leave.

"Oh, Dean." Stella ran a gentle hand down his cheek. "I know how you feel about it, and I respect that. You've always been honest about not wanting to get married. And why. We have a good life Dean. I am not going to have some meltdown over whether or not we have some piece of paper that says I'm yours and you're mine. I am happy where we are, more than happy…"

"I know you are, and I am grateful for that." He kissed the palm of her hand. "But just because I'm not ready right now doesn't mean it's something I don't ever want… I took the ring back because I wanted to make a change to it. I had it engraved. Take a look."

Stella took the ring from his hand, held it up and angled it in the light. It took a second to find the script on the inside of the band: _Starlight Starbright – Stella & Dean._

She gave him a brilliant smile. "I love it, Dean. Thank you."

"That's not the only change. I had them, well, I had them resize it. Make it smaller so that it will fit your ring finger." Dean felt warm but he resisted the urge to tug at the collar of his shirt. He glanced at Stella who was staring at him, her face a curious combination of surprise, intensity and suspicion. She held the ring in the palm of her hand.

"What, exactly, are you saying, Dean?"

He looked up and directly into Stella's eyes, and took a deep breath. Then he plunged in, determined to say everything he needed to say—afraid that if he took a breath, he'd lose his nerve.

"I'm still concerned about getting married, Stella. I know it doesn't make sense, but there's something about the idea of having a wife while we live this, this, this life, if that's what you can call it. Well, it scares the crap out of me, baby. I'm not ready to sign on the dotted line... I'm just not… It isn't because I don't love you. I do love you. I love you more than I imagined I could ever love anyone, even Sam. I feel pretty lame calling this a promise ring, but I guess that's what it is… I want you to know that when you look at that ring—and when you look at this one—that someday I'm going to get there…" He pulled a matching ring out of his pocket. "… And I need you to know that there isn't another woman I want in my life other than you. I'm yours Stella. Forever."

He let Stella get a good look at the ring and then he slowly and deliberately put it on the ring finger of his left hand. Stella's face softened. She'd known how Dean felt about marriage for a long time, how he pictured it in his mind, and this was an enormous gesture on his part. He took her ring out of her hand and pulled Stella to her feet so that they were facing each other. He picked up her left hand and angled the ring towards her ring finger.

"May I?"

"Absolutely." She watched him slide the ring onto her finger, and then pulled his head down to her and kissed him. Dean slid his arms around Stella, pulling her close.

"Someday, Stella. Someday there will be a real proposal. Down on my knees and everything. But for now, I hope this is enough…" he whispered.

"It is more than enough, Dean. Rings or no rings, proposal or no proposal, I'm yours, too. I'm not going anywhere; you're stuck with me."

"I can live with that." He kissed her again and realized that he felt lighter; all his concern about the ring and what Stella thought lifted off of his shoulders and vanished. Any life was a good life as long as she was with him.

Dean had his arm over Stella's shoulder when they came down the stairs. They went out onto the deck when they saw Sam and Bobby sitting out there. It took Sam all of five seconds to notice the ring on Dean's finger. His eyes widened and he glanced at Stella. Her ring was back—he suddenly realized he hadn't seen it on her hand for a few days—but it was on a different finger. He started to smile and it quickly developed into a laugh.

Stella had seen his look and knew he'd noticed.

"You romantic sonofabitch," said Sam. "You gave her a promise ring."

Bobby sat up straighter and turned to take a good look at the two. His eyes met Stella's and she smiled at him. He turned his attention to Dean, stared at the ring, and gave Dean one of his trademark squirrely looks, glaring out from under bushy eyebrows.

"'Bout God-damned time you got around to this, boy. About God-damned time."

**EPILOGUE**

The next day, they said good-bye to Bobby, took a long look at Chateau Bodine. Out on the highway, Bobby headed east, back towards his house—and Singer's Salvage Yard—in South Dakota. Sam, Dean, and Stella headed in the opposite direction. The plan was to follow Route 40 across the state until they reached Dinosaur, CO. From there, the plan was to cross into Utah and make it to Provo by dinner time. It was only a five and a half hour drive. From there, they could pick up Route 15 and head south to Las Vegas.

From there?

With the open road in front of them, it was anyone's guess...

_**The End – For Now**_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thank you all so very much for reading "Starlight Starbright." I appreciate you sticking with me and for your kind words about my work. I am so very glad you've enjoyed the story. I do have other plans for Stella and Dean. My next Supernatural story is tentatively titled "Stella Luna" and will be about the start of Stella and Dean's relationship; a prequel to Starlight if you will. I have a bunch of ideas but nothing written yet…

One caveat: I am starting school again next week and am registered for a full course load, plus I've had several job interviews recently so I may be working full time again soon (fingers crossed – I've been unemployed for a bit now!). So, it may be a while before I can start posting a new story. But if you are so inclined, put me on an author alert and you'll be sure to know when Stella and Dean's adventures start again.

Thank you!


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